


John of the Dead

by distantstarlight



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Family Dynamics, Friends to Lovers, John is a Saint, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Original Character(s), POV John Watson, Pretending to Be Gay, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Zombies except not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:50:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1199784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is out with Sherlock AGAIN being embarrassed AGAIN. What wouldn't John do for Sherlock and why? Is the doctor keeping something from his detective?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Alley

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up and this idea was in my head. I apologize for the complete lack of actual zombies. I don't want to decimate London just for a new chance to see these two be all romantical with one another.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock are best friends, there's nothing he likes better than spending time with him, but some days...

_This was so stupid!_ This was the stupidest thing they'd ever done but here John was, done up in all the gear and feeling way too old. “Why are we doing this?” he asked again. All his previous queries had gone unanswered. He stayed crouched low, careful to remain as small a target as possible. His knees hurt and he wondered if his hip would give out first or his shoulder.

“Quiet John, you'll give us away.” Being shushed by Sherlock Holmes, of all people, didn't sit well with John who was feeling crankier by the second. _He was tired, uncomfortable, the vest he was wearing chafed a bit at his neck and he was hungry._ The brick wall at his back was cool and a little damp. John felt soggy and in need of a hot bath. Sherlock perched to his left watching something intently.

John was feeling ornery. Normally he didn't mind being pulled away on one weird case after another but he hadn't slept well last night, he had to cover another doctor's shift at the clinic today, he'd missed lunch, and now he'd missed dinner. They had been running about for hours now. John Watson could deal with fatigue but he did not endure gracefully on an empty stomach. “I don't care if I give us away. You said we'd have dinner.”

“After. _After_ we can have dinner. Seriously, John, you have to learn to discipline your transport. We are about to be swarmed by several opponents. Was this what you were like when you were at war? _Focus!”_ John had it. Without another word John stood up and stalked forward, ignoring Sherlock's hissed warning. A large group of people raced around the corner and stared at John standing in the middle of an otherwise empty alley.

They looked alien and weird, pasty and just not right. Their clothes were torn and there were disturbing splashes of red dripping from their hands and other body parts. Moving raggedly as a group they stepped toward John, some even sniffing the air. They didn't notice his gun. In a flash, John aimed and calmly picked off the entire group one at a time by placing a single shot between each pair of eyes. The screams were piercing and filled with helpless rage. The cries of the group were nearly drowned out by a dismayed baritone shout, “ _John!_ ”

“I'm going home.” John gripped the paint-gun in his hand and stomped away. At the end of the alley, he counted seven people lying on the pavement groaning quietly. Every one of them had a green blob of paint square between their safety-goggled eyes. “Sorry.”

John kept stomping. He was angry now. He heard the patent leather footsteps of his flatmate race up behind him. “John Watson, that was entirely uncalled for! I was doing _legitimate_ research on group survival and you ruined the entire experiment just as it was getting interesting.”

“You've been saying it's been _getting interesting_ for four hours Sherlock. I'm _hungry_. I _need_ to eat. I'm not playing this stupid game anymore!” _Why did he always do whatever Sherlock told him to do? Wouldn't it just be easier if he learned how to say no once in a while and skip the whole being embarrassed part?_ John plucked at his clothes which had been irritating him but weren't the largest part of the problem.

Sherlock, of course, had presented the game as part of a theory he was working on. He needed John to join him in a group activity where the primary goal was survival within set parameters. “I thought you'd enjoy this John. You watched that movie dozens of times.”

“ _Yes_ , I loved the movie. _Yes_ , our first names rhyme. _No_ , I did not want to become the gunman for a zombie apocalypse survival group!” John was almost shouting. He needed a drink and some food. A _lot_ of food. _How did Sherlock survive for days at a time without eating? Had he trained his transport to take in nutrients through the air or something?_ It wouldn't surprise John if he had. _It had been far too long since toast and tea for breakfast. He'd only eaten part of his dinner last night too because Sherlock had sent him back to St Bart's to pick up a human brain._ Now John worried about why Sherlock needed a human brain the night before they joined a zombie survival training unit.

“John, you _ruined_ the entire point of the experiment! How am I to know how we'd fare during an actual panic situation?” Sherlock was whining now and it grated on John’s nerves. The group was meeting again in a week so it wasn't like Sherlock couldn't run this experiment again. _Next_ time though, John was bringing some snacks or at least making sure he ate first.

“Sherlock, take your notes now. If there was a true zombie outbreak and we were for some reason forced to roam the streets of London living off of crisps and canned soda then you have formally witnessed what would happen if you roamed with me!” John had started quietly but his voice got louder and firmer as he went along. “I am a _soldier_ Sherlock. I used to kill people for a living. I became a doctor _after_ , not before. I wouldn't hide in an alley waiting for a group of virulent killers to stumble my way. I'd kill every threat within a defensible distance, dig in, lock down my perimeters, and make a kill run.”

Sherlock stopped walking. John ignored his flatmate and made his way out of the ruined complex that served as the training ground for the game. It was all paintball guns and play-acting. If you signed up to be a zombie and were _killed_ by a headshot you had to drop wherever you were and stay there until the end of the gaming session. If you were a survivor you were given the gun but the zombies had paint-covered fingers. If you were marked on any bared skin there was a thirty-minute count-down before you officially changed sides and joined the other team against your former team-mates. You _became_ a zombie.

John undid his vest and dropped it on the sidewalk as he continued to walk away. _He wasn't wearing that anymore._ “John!” protested Sherlock again. John kept walking. It was a fair distance to the nearest roadway that would provide any kind of chance for a taxi. That's if a taxi would stop for them. John was dressed in faux camouflage, cheap and itchy. _It was a costume and not the fatigues he'd worn comfortably for years. He looked idiotic. Sherlock, the vain git, was dressed in all black tactical gear so he looked mysterious and deadly. John looked like a member of a disco dance group_. “John you can't just throw the costume away and call it quits. You promised to go through with this.”

“When did I promise that?” demanded John. Sherlock waved his magic taxi-hailing arm and a car pulled up right next to them. The taller man was clutching John's discarded vest. John rolled his eyes but climbed in, too tired to fight about more than one thing at a time. He gave the cab driver the address to Angelo's, knowing full well that there was nothing edible left in the flat since John hadn't done the shopping yet. Then he looked down. _No. Not happening_. He changed their destination to Baker Street. John wasn't going to go to dinner wearing a cheap knock-off soldier's uniform.

“ _This afternoon_ , I gave you ten minutes to say no and then I made the arrangements. I texted _and_ called.” John pulled out his phone and checked his messages. Sherlock had called him dozens of times during the morning alone and in desperation, John had shut his phone off. Pointlessly he turned it back on now that they were almost home and already side-by-side. Sure enough, a text and voicemail existed untouched where Sherlock had laid out the promise and the time limit, both of which John had failed to reply to.

“Sherlock, I was _working_. You picked me up at the door and forced me to change clothes without a word. What did you do with my regular clothes anyway? We were in that alley for hours! Why didn't you just tell me what you were doing? Why do you always make me guess instead of just asking me properly? Is it so hard?” John was _hangry._ He needed to eat and now he was mad. _Not at Sherlock, really, just mad. The fake outfit wasn't any worse than the fireman outfit or that horrible car salesman getup, or that time they pretended to be mascots during the grand opening of an electronics store. The alley hadn't been the worst either. The sewer stakeout. That had been the worst. They hadn't even been wounded that time, it had just been relentlessly awful_. Right at that moment John just wanted a hot cup of tea and a good meal.

“You _like_ the way I drag you around doing things. Your life would be boring without me. I threw your clothes away, obviously. I wasn't going to carry them around all evening.” said Sherlock flippantly. John breathed deeply, counting to ten forward then backward. He shut his eyes and tried to find his happy place but all he could see in his mind's eye was delicious meals he could be eating but wasn't. That jumper had been one of his favourites too, the blue and yellow check number. “I _do_ tell you things, John. I ask your opinion on everything all the time. It's not my fault you insist on leaving me behind and wasting time doing pedestrian things like _working_ or _dating_.”

 _“Pedestrian?”_ John was outraged now. They'd arrived at Baker Street and John hurriedly scrambled out, forcing Sherlock to pay the fare for once. John was all-the-way angry now. His stomach growled and he was seeing red. _How dare Sherlock look down on John's work! John's job may not be as glamorous sounding as Sherlock's but it brought in a decent wage and John enjoyed helping people. He was good at it!_

John stormed up the stairs to 221 B, childishly locking the door behind him so Sherlock had to use his own key to get in. John began shouting at him the second the door clicked open. “I work _hard_ to be a good doctor and _I am!_ I'm _sorry_ for my _pedestrian_ _need_ to earn money to pay for food I _never get to eat_ or to cover the rent on the place where _I never rest_ is interfering with _your_ interest of the day! Maybe your _next_ flatmate will be able to live on vapours and moonbeams like you can and you'll _both_ live _happily ever after!_ ”

John almost ran upstairs. He was wild with rage. The doctor was _so_ mad. His stomach was empty and he felt sick. Stripping off the cheap costume he stuffed it in the bin, not caring if it was just a rental that Sherlock would now need to replace. John pulled on his oldest jeans and his thickest jumper. Stuffing his feet into a pair of green trainers he checked his wallet, pulled on his coat and left.

Sherlock was sitting on the sofa still wearing his tactical gear. “Where are you going?” he actually had the gall to sound testy. John shot him a furious glare.

“ _I'm leaving_. I'm tired of jumping every time you call. I'm tired of never having a chance to eat a hot meal or getting a full night's sleep. I'm tired of being under your thumb for every impulse that goes through your head, and I'm tired of being experimented on. Sometimes I want to just take a break and you never let me. You've taken over every part of my life, and you don't care if you use me well or ill. You've deliberately ruined every relationship I've ever had and I've had to join six separate clinics to find enough locum work to pay for everything except for half the rent! I'm sick of it. _You're not my friend. You are a parasite_.” John left a shocked looking Sherlock sitting on the sofa. John could have slammed the door but he didn't want to upset Mrs Hudson who probably had already had her herbal soother for the evening.

John went to the pub. It was a good sturdy pub, the kind of pub that had withstood the test of time. The seats were comfortable and the service was prompt but not pushy. It was a plain and straightforward place that suited John's needs, especially tonight. It specialized in two things, beer and bar food. John ordered a pint and a platter of appetizers. He felt better the second he had a long sip and crunched his way through his platter. John watched the game on one of the TVs blankly, not really taking anything in, just idly passing time as he had dinner. Once his appetizers had been vanquished John ordered a burger with chips. The owner was testing out flavour combinations and tonight's offering with spicy peppers on it was actually quite good.

John ordered another beer. He was feeling much better. He was still tired but everything seemed less stressful now. John drank his beer, finished his burger and chips then ordered pie. He was finally feeling nicely full after what felt like days of gnawing hunger. John sat back and debated about a final drink. He wasn't in a rush to get back to the flat and the fallout from his outburst.

John wasn't exactly unhappy that he'd finally lost his temper. Living with Sherlock was a challenge and despite how much John loved the life they had together there were limits. _A body could only take so much._ John felt like he had been run ragged. _They had no time to breathe anymore. They'd worked case after case for months now_.

Tonight was supposed to be a night off but Sherlock hadn't needed to rest. He never did. The excitable detective ran full speed day after day, refreshed with only catnaps and tea. Still. John did regret calling Sherlock a parasite. _He wasn't. Sherlock was selfish, self-centered, vain, greedy, intense, thoughtless and callous. He was also dedicated, intelligent, canny, adaptive, creative and for a spare handful of people, entirely devoted_. What Sherlock was, thought John who had narrowed it down, Sherlock was neglectful.

 _Not about important things like clues or evidence or music, oh no, about mundane things. Sherlock could barely be troubled to look after his own body which he very much needed. It was difficult to interest him in things as farfetched as groceries or bills. Sherlock could probably live very easily on the streets if they lost their home._ John laughed darkly to himself imagining Sherlock surviving by stealing short naps in parks and eating for free at restaurants like Angelo's because there was always someone who owed Sherlock a favour.

John sighed. His stomach was full and now he felt bad about shouting at Sherlock. _Really, John's life was wonderful, more than someone like him could have hoped for. They had real adventures all the time. John got to travel all over England with Sherlock. Sometimes they did jobs for the British government and Sherlock would tease John about being a real spy like in the movies. Half the jobs they took were done as favours for the clients, many of whom knew Sherlock personally from somewhere in his past which he never talked about._ That's the kind of man Sherlock was. He helped people because he could do what others couldn't, and for those who had nothing he never billed.

Now John felt like a jerk. _Sherlock was the best friend a man could ask for. Their in-between times were always wonderful._ John thought of those rare evenings where they had nothing to do but watch crap telly together or play childish games just to laugh together. Sherlock was an interfering arse with John's long string of ex-girlfriends but on the other hand, he had revealed a lot of hidden truths about the women he'd run off. John had always been grateful after the fact if not at the moment. He hadn’t even dated since Sherlock had faked his death. It had felt wrong without his wing-man guarding his back.

Making up his mind John went to the bar to pay his bill and purchase a bottle of fine wine. John walked home briskly, not wasting time with reluctance that would get him nowhere. He marched himself into his building and up to his flat.

Sherlock was sitting on the sofa. John wasn't sure if the man had moved at all even though John had been gone for over two hours. Clearly, he must have because Sherlock was now wearing the thin ragged tee-shirt he liked to sleep in and cotton pyjama bottoms. Tonight he was wearing his grey-blue robe over it all. The flat was cold but Sherlock's feet were bare as usual, “Sherlock?”

Sherlock swayed just a tiny bit at the sound of John's voice. “John. You've come to fetch your things then?” Sherlock sounded wooden and hollow. John looked closely. _Sherlock looked awful._ He was pale and drawn and John was almost sure that Sherlock had been crying. _It couldn’t be. Sherlock never cried but still._ His eyes were faintly red and there were smudges on his high cheekbones.

“No, Sherlock, look.” John went and sat beside Sherlock on the sofa, setting the wine on the coffee table. “Look, I'm sorry for shouting earlier, I know I said some pretty rotten things, and I'm sorry for all of it. I was just so hungry. I know it's not a good excuse but after I had dinner I settled right down and I've spent all this time feeling like a right arse for losing my temper. I don't want to leave Sherlock.”

John was very startled when Sherlock lunged over and threw his arms around John. “ _John_. I don't want you to go either. It's been awful. You were gone for 137 minutes and I hated every one of them because you weren't here. I _am_ your friend John, I _am_. I'm sorry if I haven't been a very good one.”

“You are a good friend, my best friend. I apologize for all the hurtful things I said. You are a good man Sherlock Holmes, the best.” Sherlock smiled softly at John. “I brought you a bottle of apology wine.”

 _“Apology wine?”_  Carefully Sherlock took out the bottle and read the label. “Well, I suppose.” He pretended to sigh. John chuckled with Sherlock before getting up to get glasses from the cupboard. He was surprised to find Sherlock right behind him. Without saying a word Sherlock reached up and easily plucked the wine glasses from the top shelf and set them in front of John. With a wink Sherlock went back to the sofa while John opened and poured.

John smiled. Sherlock was always a surprise, always a challenge. He kept John on his toes and John appreciated that. _Life was never boring when you lived with a mad scientist._ Going back to the sofa John handed Sherlock his glass and sat beside the detective. Sherlock still looked sad but was still smiling softly. John regretted hurting Sherlock's feelings during his outburst. Sherlock came off as insensitive and cruel but he really wasn't. He was impulsive and unfiltered but generally he meant well. Sherlock raised his glass. “I'm glad you're not moving out, John.”

“I'm glad too, Sherlock. I didn't mean the things I said. I'm sorry.” John did feel badly. Guilt was rising up as he considered how lonely Sherlock must have felt as soon as he'd stormed out. _Sherlock didn't have other friends to call on or places to go to for comfort. The tall young man would cut off a limb before calling his older brother for support. 221B and John were Sherlock's whole world._

“You _did_ mean them and you _weren't_ wrong.” said Sherlock clearly. John started. His heart dropped when he heard the flat tone in Sherlock's voice. “You were devastatingly correct and I have indeed been a poor friend to you. _I_ am the one who is sorry John. You have been a good sport about my idiosyncrasies and I give you no credit for it. You _do_ support our lives with your work and I am unappreciative because it takes you away from _my_ work. I confess to not even paying my half of the rent. It's automatically paid from my trust fund account. I have little to do with it because I never think about money. As for your relationships I have no socially acceptable excuse. I think you have terrible taste in women. Your girlfriends are dull and uninteresting. I've routed them because it's horrified me to consider being expected to spend time with anyone you might get serious about because you are my best friend and at some point in your life settling down with a wife is probably going to happen. I'd still wish to be your friend though.”

John didn't know what to say to that. Instead he leaned over, topped their glasses up and sat back again. Sherlock seemed to be done talking, allowing John time to mull over what he'd just heard. Sherlock wasn't wrong about some things. John's girlfriends _were_ dull. He never had time to really find someone special. Most of the women he dated were people he'd met at bars or through work. They were opportunities, chances he took to get a leg over every once in a while. Sometimes it was more than just sex but not often. Sherlock's interferences usually occurred right at the moment John's subconscious mind was telling him to get out, get out now!

John wondered about marriage too. When he was in school he'd thought about having a family but it hadn't seemed urgent. When he'd moved on to the army John had put thoughts of family aside to focus on what he was doing. When he was invalided out John dusted off the idea of marriage for a minute before realizing he had no interest in binding a broken person to someone, that children were wonderful provided they belonged to someone else, and that no wife anywhere would let him keep living at 221B to go have risky fun with his bestie.

Finally John slouched back. Rolling his head to the side John looked at the pale man by his side. Sherlock's curls were as wild as ever, his attempt to tame them clearly overcome by his constant clutching at them. Sherlock looked tired but not drained the way he had appeared earlier. John shrugged, “I'm happy here. I'm tired right now and I was very hungry. I wouldn't change our lives for anything Sherlock. We have the best life I could hope for. I want to talk about this I _do_ but right now I'm exhausted. I need a shower. I need to sleep.”

Sherlock nodded. Taking John's now empty glass and setting it on the coffee table Sherlock stood and held his hand out to John to help heave him out of the sofa. They stood there facing each other. John was sharply struck suddenly over how much taller Sherlock was than him and wondered what cologne the detective wore because John wanted to smell just like that. Shaking his head a bit John looked up and saw that Sherlock was giving him a fond smile. Unexpectedly long arms wrapped around John and squeezed him briefly. “Thank you for not leaving me, John.”

With that Sherlock was gone and John was standing alone. He picked up the bottle and glasses, rinsed everything out and left them by the sink to deal with some other time. Tonight had been strange and John just couldn't focus on all the ups and downs he'd just experienced. Shutting off all the lights he used the bathroom before retiring for the night. Exhausted he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had such a good time writing this story. I hope you enjoyed it.


	2. The Flat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has had a big talk with Sherlock and gotten a lot of things off his chest.

John let himself sleep in the next morning. He had a half-day at one of the clinics but his shift didn't start until after lunch so John slept well past breakfast. When he did finally roll lazily out of bed to make tea the flat was empty. There was no sign of Sherlock but there was a brand new carton of milk in the fridge and all the body parts were gone.

Deciding Sherlock was at the morgue swapping parts with Molly John enjoyed a human remains free cup of tea and tried to decide what was better for breakfast, stale crisps or jam with nothing to put it on. Their cupboards were bare and apart from the milk there was nothing in the fridge. Shopping was inevitable as was the struggle with the chip and pin machine. John sighed, drank his tea and went to get dressed.

He was just slipping into his shoes when he heard Sherlock thundering up the stairs. The tall man pushed their door open, not seeing the doctor who was now standing behind it and shouted, “John!” as loudly as he could.

John shut the door and snickered when a very startled Sherlock jumped in the air in surprise. “I'm right here, there’s no need to shout.” Sherlock flushed red with embarrassment and John snickered again. Sherlock looked down at him and extended his arm. He was holding a small bag.

John took it and opened it to see two long wrapped bundles. “I got you breakfast from downstairs. It's still warm.” John was very touched. Sherlock had gotten him one of the fancy egg sandwiches Speedy's did. They were filled with herbs and cheeses. John rarely indulged because they were fairly pricey and he was on a budget.

“Thanks mate. I was just heading out to do the shopping.” Sherlock smiled, took the bag back to extract the sandwiches. John made more tea and both men sat down to eat. The sandwiches were warm and soft. John ate up every crumb. Sherlock managed half of his and offered the other half to John. Debating for only a second John ate it. Sherlock smiled again and sipped his tea.

“I'll help with the shopping. We're right out of everything.” John was surprised again but accepted. He didn't have ages before he needed to get to work and if Sherlock was willing to help then great. John liked spending time with Sherlock and the man rarely volunteered to help with chores. Sherlock was pleasant and uncomplaining as they climbed into their coats and shoes. He even held the door open for John and locked up tight after they left their flat.

Shopping at Tesco with Sherlock was normally a nightmare. He was like a kid who kept shouting for anything that caught his eye or explained the true properties contained within items wrapped with crinkly clear plastic. Today though he just pushed the cart and reached for items on the tops of shelves without teasing John about his height.

John was pleased and actually enjoyed shopping for once. They weren't rushing about and when they got to the register their cart was full to overflowing. Sherlock pulled out his own card and paid for everything without a hitch before John could even reach for his wallet. Without remarking on it Sherlock helped bag everything up and took half the bags himself for the walk home.

They were unpacking their groceries when Sherlock asked. “I have a proposal for you John. I want us to form our own apocalypse team. Show me how to survive a hostile urban environment.”

John packed the vegetables into the crisper as he thought about his answer. “Why do you need to know?” Sherlock stayed silent for a short while. Then he sat himself at the kitchen table and looked up.

“I trust you John. You're a survivor. You have considerable martial skill and you very seldom react inappropriately in an emergency situation. You are an excellent marksman and despite your physical limitations you maintain our very active lifestyle with relative ease.” Sherlock sounded as if he were reading a list he'd made out previously.

“My _physical_ limitations, you mean my height?” John stared grimly at Sherlock who looked confused. Sherlock's eyes ran down John and then ran back up again. He tilted his head a bit as if still unsure.

“Your height? No. I was referring to your bad shoulder. Despite the problems it gives you the accuracy in your non-dominant arm is still greater than most shooters using their correct arm. You are ambidextrous so that means even with one weaker arm you are still twice the threat our opponents are. Having a shooter such as you can only increase the chances of survival in an emergency situation. You have in fact saved my life several times already. I'd like to continue living even if you aren't by my side every moment as convenient as that would be.” Sherlock sounded almost disinterested. John smirked again.

“You want your best friend to watch your back. Someone you trust and care about.” he said instead.

Sherlock rolled his eyes again. “ _Yes_ John. Must you really reduce everything to _sentiment?_ I am trying to be practical and efficient here.” John just grinned at Sherlock. He watched Sherlock’s back automatically since the day they’d met and hadn’t stopped.

Deciding he needed to think things through first John made tea. Tea was the fluid that made their world go. Bad day? Make some tea. Great day? Celebrate with tea. Hungry. Have a bite with a cup of tea. Bored. Tea will help. Name-your-emotion needs dealing with? Have a nice cuppa and work it out. He asked again, “Why do you need to know how to do this? It's not likely that a real zombie outbreak will occur. If one does we'll probably be scooped up by Mycroft who actually owns an umbrella and would be the person most likely voted as having their own palatial underground panic room.”

“Why does it matter if Mycroft owns an umbrella? He has dozens. He collects them.” Sherlock was focusing on all the wrong parts of John's question. John shook his head, recognizing Sherlock's deflection technique.

“Explain _why_. If I believe you I'll do it.” Sherlock glowered at John but John just raised his glass as if toasting Sherlock and ignored the death rays being directed at him. Sherlock turned up the intensity and John sipped his tea patiently. Finally the glower power petered out and Sherlock slumped over his cup in defeat.

“ _Fine_. While I was in exile there were several occasions when I was less than prepared for the situations I found myself in. After my _resurrection_ as you keep calling it, I've given much thought to improving my skills, not because I want to go into exile ever again, but just in case. I don't want to be vulnerable like that again if things go poorly for any reason. I didn't like feeling like that, that as well as nearly dying for real almost a dozen times, I'd like to not do that again too.”

John stopped breathing for a moment. He'd managed to put away those two years Sherlock was gone, presumed dead. In public John had grieved like a good friend should. In private he had been entirely gutted. He’d mourned deeply for months and then he'd bravely soldiered on. He never stopped living at 221B, working full time all over London to earn enough to keep the flat. He hadn't minded the long hours. He needed the money and he had nothing else to do with his time except sit at home and miss his best friend. Now though John wasn't working full-time. He'd taken reduced hours spread over several clinics to make room for The Work. Sherlock was back and John wouldn't miss a case for anything in the world.

In those two years Sherlock had traveled all over Europe in one disguise after another. He was a natural at espionage but by necessity worked solo. He hadn't had backup at any time. He hadn't been much of a fighter before he'd died either. He had a few moves, good enough for dealing with the types of thugs you met late at night on dark streets or the occasionally energetic finish to a case. Beyond that Sherlock didn't really know a lot of hand-to-hand combat moves, he hadn't shot a gun more times than it took for him to put holes in the wall, and he had never killed anyone. John couldn't let Sherlock down, not after the man had barely survived all that. “I'll do it.”

“You will? Really?” Sherlock was standing tall, almost but not quite jumping up and down with excitement. “I have a whole plan worked out. We can start tomorrow. Let me get my lapto....”

“ _No_. We do this _my way_. You just admitted you don't know what you are doing! How are you going to learn anything doing things you planned? _I'll_ plan what _you’ll_ learn. We'll use that game complex we were at today and after we train we'll pit ourselves against whoever you want there and see who makes it out alive.” John was firm and Sherlock was ecstatic.

“That would be just fine John, another time though alright? Now go, you have to get to work.” John glanced at the clock. He only had a short amount of time to clean himself up, change his clothes and catch a taxi. “I'll call a taxi for you. Go change now.”

Sherlock hurried John away. A little bemused at Sherlock's thoughtfulness John went to wash up and change. Clattering back down the stairs he saw the door was already open and Sherlock was standing next to it holding John's coat. Helping him into it Sherlock reached over and hugged John again. “I'll see you later John.”

John went to work with a flush on his cheeks. He could smell Sherlock's cologne on his collar all afternoon and he smiled a lot. Everyone seemed to respond to it and all his appointments just flew by. Before he knew it his shift was over and he was saying goodbye to the floor nurse on his way out the door. His phone buzzed the second he stepped out of the clinic. Pulling out his phone John read Sherlock's text.

_Take a cab. Have something for you. SH_

_Okay then_. John hailed a cab. A few minutes later he was pulling in front of 221 Baker Street and Sherlock was waving at him through the window. John waved back, his brows knitted in confusion. He stopped to say hello to Mrs. Hudson on his way up. She tittered, kissed his cheek and chased him out the door, telling him to go home already.

Dinner was on the table. Sherlock had somehow figured out how to make a beef roast with all the sides. The tall man stood by the table beaming proudly and John grinned over to him. “This is fantastic Sherlock.” Sherlock jiggled around on the spot, clearly happy with John's reaction. John hung up his coat and sat himself at the table. Sherlock passed John a bottle of wine to pour while he carved the roast and served them both. John took a bite. It was tender and savory, “Oh my god, this is incredible!”

Sherlock's face grew pink. “Mrs. Hudson helped a great deal.” John made appreciative sounds but was too busy eating to participate in the conversation. Sherlock beamed again and dug into his own serving. There was a lot of silence but it was a contented one. John was very happy. He was pleasantly tired from his day and now his stomach was full of hot savory food and good wine. Sherlock had even chipped the worst of the patina off the table and cleared way all the experiments he had going. The whole kitchen was actually spotless.

“Did you work in the flat all afternoon?” John said now that he had the leisure to look around.

“I had to go out for a short while but mostly just to pick up a few things and take care of some business. Bring your glass.” Sherlock got up and dumped their dirty plates in the sink. John refilled their glasses and brought them both to the living room. Instead of sitting on his chair John opted to seat himself on the sofa again after handing Sherlock his glass. The younger man joined him, sprawling out on the far side.

There was a manila envelope on the coffee table. “That's for you.” said Sherlock. He looked serious and John became concerned. Setting down his glass he picked up the envelope and looked inside. There was a small packet of papers there. Extracting them John saw a bank statement. Both their names were on the top and the balance was considerable. There was a brand new debit card attached, ready to use.

“What is this Sherlock? Where did this money come from and since when do we have a joint account?” John was confused and a little upset. _He was a self-sufficient man and regretted complaining about paying the bills. He was proud to earn their keep. If Sherlock thought John would accept a handout then Sherlock was sorely mistaken_.

“This is _our_ money John, the money we earned from solving cases. I got you a card of your own from the bank today. I want you to use it to pay for things. We have more than enough. I've already paid Mrs. Hudson the rent for the whole year. We've been very busy.” Sherlock was smiling anxiously at John who was totally stunned. There was a sizable amount of money still in the account. He saw the wire transfer Sherlock had done to Mrs. Hudson's account and he felt a bit weak in the knees. “I've asked Mycroft to divert my Trust Fund deposits here as well, to cover the less expected expenses that crop up.”

John couldn’t accept this. “This isn't _our_ money it's _your_ money. The money you earned being a consultant.” argued John. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“John, don't be difficult about this. You earned this money _with_ me. Look, take the card. Pay for your taxis, our groceries, all the bills and whatever else it is that we need. _It's ours!_ Keep working if you want, keep your money, and your pension as well. That's not mine but _this is ours_ and I want you to use it.” Sherlock extracted a card of his own, almost identical to John's. “You've paid for me this entire time and I never gave it a thought. This money has been piling up for years. I've used a bit of it to pay for things I needed for experiments but other than that I haven't really touched it.”

John was blown away. He could barely get past the fact that he didn't have to worry about the rent for twelve months. He looked at the balance again. They could pay the rent for quite a while with what was still left in there. Sherlock looked uncomfortable for a minute. He jiggled around again for a minute before saying very fast. “ _IusedthemoneyoncefordrugsbutInevertookthemI'msorryJohn_.”

It was John's turn to glower and Sherlock wilted. Still, John couldn't stop himself from softening almost instantly, “Thank you for telling me Sherlock. I wish you'd told me that bit before this though. I know you've been clean all this time and I'm proud of you for being so strong. It couldn't have been easy to say no to yourself.”

“It was after Baskerville. I bought them but I couldn't take them. I destroyed the product and hid all the evidence. I _am_ sorry John. Thank you for believing me.” With those words came another brief warm hug. John was surprised, not just with the increased physical conduct but for everything. Sherlock's smile was now hopeful and John sighed before picking up the new debit card.

“Just for things we need together. I can take care of my own needs myself.” Sherlock nodded eagerly and patted John's arm and gave it a short squeeze before retracting his long arm. John looked at the card in his hands and the statement in front of him. With rent taken care of as well as their utilities and groceries, not to mention cab fares John's personal account might have some time to recover.

John actually felt a little light headed when he realized the majority of his financial concerns were completely gone. He could even consider dropping his availability at some of the clinics so he could help with the Work more. It wasn't like he didn't like being a doctor, he did. It's just that The Work, _the_ _work_ he did with Sherlock was something unique and worthy. It took time and dedication. They were in demand now and were well-paid to do what they did. There was no reason to keep up with so many different clinics, or any of them, if John decided to focus on The Work entirely. John wondered if what Sherlock would think of an idea like that, just the two of them doing nothing but cases together all the time.

Suddenly John felt better about the shared account. It was a testament of how successful they were as a team and John was proud of that. There was nothing shameful or weak about using this. He had earned it shoulder to shoulder with his best friend. John would use it to take care of both of them as best he could which was all John wanted in life.

Sherlock could read John’s thoughts right off his face, “I'm glad of it John. I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here to look after things. I know I'm terrible at it so I thank you again for being so responsible for all this time. It was good of you.” John wasn't quite sure how to handle all this praise and support coming from Sherlock. The younger man was actively taking John's complaints seriously and was working to address each and every one. Sherlock wasn't being snotty or difficult about it either. He seemed genuinely concerned about John's welfare and comfort.

John got up and went to the kitchen to wash up. He heard Sherlock pottering around in the living room and when he was done cleaning he came back to find the fire lit and the TV ready for movie night. John smiled. Sherlock had even fetched out their guilty pleasure, two soft fluffy lap blankets, both an unfortunate shade of baby blue, a gift from an elderly client. “Come on John, it's about to begin.”

A _Doctor Who_ marathon was beginning starting with the ninth doctor. _Fantastic!_ John was instantly engaged. The night was long and filled with laughter and arguments as Sherlock and John fought about the realism and the science behind the show. John made Sherlock say “Are you my mummy?” in his smarmiest voice a dozen times, cracking up hysterically each time until Sherlock refused to do it anymore.

Sherlock seemed to be having a good time. He was relaxed and sitting on the sofa by laying on his back, his long legs draped over the side, his arms extended far above him and similarly draped over John’s lap. John was using Sherlock’s hand as a cup holder. In return he was dropping the odd piece of popcorn into Sherlock’s mouth as they made their way through one episode after another. A long time later both men were laughing at the infomercial that had begun, both stubbornly refusing to get up to reach the remote control which was all the way over on the far end of the coffee table.

They fell asleep like that. Sherlock was still holding John’s glass which is how the doctor was woken in the middle of the night. Sherlock had rolled over in his sleep and dumped the dregs of John’s water onto his thigh. John had awakened with a start to find his crotch filled with a face full of sleeping detective and warm water soaking his leg. “Oh god.” he whispered hoarsely. Parts of John were responding happily to the pressure and warmth of Sherlock’s face. The man was dead to the world, his arm limply hanging off the side of the couch and he was snoring lightly.

John was a bit panicked now. He needed Sherlock to move and right now before he lost an eye. Unceremoniously John scooped up Sherlock’s head and wiggled his way off the couch. Sherlock woke with a surprised snort. “What’s going on?” asked Sherlock, groggy and not all the way awake.

“The water spilled on my leg. I should change and just go to bed.” John retreated quickly before Sherlock woke up even more. Almost racing to his room John pushed the door shut and began to breath as if he’d just run a race. That had been close. With a stifled groan John pressed his hand over the ache rising between his legs. _He couldn’t keep doing this. Late nights with Sherlock were becoming more and more difficult for the doctor. There in the dim intimacy of their living room John was finding it harder and harder to remain unaffected by Sherlock_. It was so frustrating though.

 _Sherlock was incredible_. John never got tired of watching Sherlock work. _The man was a miracle, a real honest to god genius_. John had made his pass right away years ago and had been shot down thoroughly by Sherlock. He’d never attempted it again and Sherlock seemed as devoted to The Work as he ever had been. John had been content with the role he played in their lives but the last few days had made it so much more difficult for the doctor to keep in mind that his best friend did _not_ do relationships, did _not_ engage in sex and was _not_ interested in sentiment. It was a long time before John was able to close his eyes and fall fitfully asleep, the scent of Sherlock’s cologne drifting through his dreams.

 


	3. The News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft pops by to 221 B and we all know how Sherlock just LOVES visits from his brother.

The next morning it was clear that Sherlock now believed in hugs because John got another one upon entering the kitchen. Sherlock was working on something but decorously draped a cloth over it lest John lose his interest in breakfast. Searching through their pleasingly full and still body-part free fridge John decided to make them both a big breakfast. John had to work again later but only a short shift. He asked Sherlock what he thought about John reducing his clinic work. “I think it’s up to you John. If I had my way you’d never go back to any of them and we would do nothing but The Work together forever.”

John remained silent for the rest of breakfast while he thought of this statement. They both wanted the same thing, and wasn’t that interesting? Sherlock was giving glances at his experiment and John realized the scientist needed to get back to whatever it was that he was doing. John was sure he didn’t want to see whatever it was laying on the tray beneath the cloth so he picked up his tea and left Sherlock to it. He clapped Sherlock on the shoulder on the way by, not thinking of the gesture, just wanting to signify that he was content to get on with his day.

John was lost in thought as he putted his way through the rest of the morning. He did chores, cleaning the bathroom as was on his rota. John had the entire flat divided into areas and made sure he got to each and every one of them on a regular basis. When he’d first moved in Sherlock had refused to let him dust because he was tracking its spread. John put up with that for a while then limited Sherlock to a test shelf and cleaned the mess away. After the bathroom came laundry. John stripped their beds down, sorted through Sherlock’s laundry to bag up things that needed to go to the cleaners and then hauled everything to 221 C where Mrs. Hudson kept a communal washer and dryer. The flat was never rented out so they used it as extra storage as well.

In between loads John visited with Mrs. Hudson. They drank tea and ate some of the delicious treats she had made. When everything was cleaned John hauled everything back upstairs. Sherlock appeared as John was beginning to sort and fold the mountain. Without a word Sherlock helped John remake the beds and hung away his own clean clothes. Then Sherlock lounged on John’s freshly made bed and remarked on all of John’s clothes, reminding John of different cases they had been on while he’d worn various items. He had John laughing in no time as they recollected one adventure after another until they were in stitches.

A quick lunch later and it was time to go to work. John tucked his phone into his back pocket and Sherlock met him at the door yet again, holding John’s coat once more. The now anticipated hug was exchanged and John was on his way for another short shift. Once more John was full of smiles and got through his day easily. He stopped by the administrators office on his way out to speak to HR. John gave them his notice and thanked them for the opportunity he had to work there. Satisfied with the first of his decisions John went back to Baker Street.

Mycroft was there. The Holmes brothers sat across the coffee table from one another and glowered balefully at one another. “This _will_ happen brother.” said Mycroft softly. His voice was hard and cold.

“There is no way on earth you can make it happen.” hissed Sherlock angrily. He looked and sounded like a wet cat.

“You may say that _now_ but you know very well there is nothing you can do to stop it. Resign yourself brother. This _is_ happening.” Mycroft stood up gracefully. The tall ginger man looked over at John. “There’s nothing you can do to prevent it Sherlock.” with those ominous words he left.

John looked down at Sherlock who refused to meet John’s eyes. “What’s going on Sherlock? What is happening? What can’t you stop? How can I help?”

Sherlock softened instantly and looked over at John. The tall dark haired detective sighed and gazed at his best friend. “The worst possible news I could have ever received.” John sat right down next to Sherlock on the sofa. Sherlock smiled wanly at the doctor. “My mother is turning seventy in a week. She demands to meet you. Mycroft dropped off your official invitation to her birthday party. _I’m so sorry John!_ She’s insisting.”

John almost sagged back with relief. He had already conjured up images of new foes, dastardly new master-criminals that were wreaking havoc throughout London. Instead he was invited to meet Sherlock’s mum. John looked at the coffee table. There was a heavy cream envelope waiting there with his entire name formally written in calligraphy. John opened it and read the details, “This is for a whole week.”

Sherlock was looking at his feet now. The back of his neck and ears were pink. John’s brows knitted together, “Sherlock _what else?_ What is _not_ in this invitation?” Sherlock’s face grew pinker, the stain of the blush now covering his cheeks and entire neck.

In a chagrined voice _the world’s only consulting detective_ explained, “My mother is under the impression that you and I have been dating for quite some time. I believe she is insisting you come to this party for the specific purpose of asking your intentions.” Sherlock had never been so red. John’s mouth fell open and he stared at Sherlock. _How had Mrs. Holmes ever gotten this idea and why had neither Sherlock nor Mycroft tried to explain_?

“Sherlock….” began John but Sherlock butted right in.

“I didn’t know alright! She’s never said. Not to me at any rate. Mycroft knew _of course_ but had elected to let the misunderstanding grow until now! He took great pleasure in explaining everything to me. John I don’t know what to do! _She’s so happy!_ No one in the family ever expected me to meet anyone or get married and you’re a _doctor!_ How do I explain to everyone that they’re mistaken? They’re expecting to _meet_ you!”

 _“They?”_ John felt he was very behind the news in this matter. Sherlock had jumped up now, his long arms almost wind-milling as he gestured wildly.

Sherlock sounded almost hysterical, “It’s the _entire_ family John! The mansion will be packed to the rafters with Holmes’. Mummy told them she was going to bring you in to meet her so _everyone_ decided to come to her birthday celebrations! John! I’m sorry. I…..”

“I’ll do it.” John didn’t hesitate and Sherlock gaped at him. John continued in a firm clear voice, “I’ll be your boyfriend for the visit.”

Sherlock seemed stunned. He sank back onto the sofa weakly. “John. John, why would you do this?” Sherlock was now as pale as he had been red.

John looked at Sherlock thoughtfully, “Sherlock, you’re my best mate. Your family is expecting to meet your boyfriend that week, your _long-term_ boyfriend! I can’t imagine how humiliating it would be for you to have to explain that I’m _not_ your boyfriend, that we live the way we do together but just as friends. I’d never do that to you Sherlock. I think we can do this.” _John wanted to do this, who was he kidding? He held off pinching himself in case this was a particularly fantastic daydream_.

Sherlock was silent. He looked at John almost sadly. “You’d fake feeling love for me? We’d have to practice as well, you realize this?” John smiled and looked right into Sherlock’s eyes.

“I wouldn’t have to fake it Sherlock. I do love you. You’re my best friend. We can practice being boyfriends all week.” John felt strangely calm. It had been easy to admit his feelings for Sherlock and not awkward at all. It didn’t matter that Sherlock thought that John felt love just as a good friend when actually it was so much more. John should have been freaking out at the mere thought of spending a week with Sherlock’s relatives as well as pulling off a deception as large as this was. Sherlock blushed furiously all over again when John followed with, “As long as you don’t mind me kissing you all the time as well as other displays of affection. We’ve been dating for how long now?”

Sherlock sounded weak, “Since shortly after I came back.” John nodded, that sounded about right. _There was a gray area in there after they’d first met where John had realized he was in love with Sherlock but awareness had come gradually. He hadn’t acted on it because of the shoot-down at Angelo’s. After Sherlock had died John couldn’t deny that he had been in love with Sherlock and would have done anything to be with him. John had lost interest in anyone else and after Sherlock came back John hadn’t given a single thought to dating_. Sherlock sounded breathless, “Kissing?”

John grinned at Sherlock, suddenly entirely at ease. A flustered Sherlock was a very enticing creature, “Yes. We are in a _deeply_ committed relationship. Your mum thinks I should be marrying you. Of course there’s kissing. Are we sharing a room or do I have to ask to formally take your hand before you put out?”

Now Sherlock tried frowning at John’s jokes but he couldn’t keep it up. He smiled almost shyly, “I believe Mummy has us in my old room. The bed is very large so we should be able to share easily.” John grinned again. He and Sherlock had shared a bed on several occasions, usually when they were on cases out of town. You couldn’t always get a last minute room for two when you wanted it and took what you could find or at least, you took what you could find when you let John Watson search for the room, “John I can’t believe you’re agreeing to do this! I don’t know what to say. How would it all have happened anyway? You’re not gay.”

John shrugged. _This was a fantasy come true as far as John was concerned. Sleeping with Sherlock? Kissing him? Holding him in public and declaring his feelings to anyone who doubted how much he loved the wild younger man? No. This wasn’t going to be a problem for John at all_. “You killed yourself for me. A lot of people would point out how romantic that appears. Maybe you swept me off my feet. I couldn’t resist your tall dark and handsome brilliance. Maybe you wooed me with flowers and heart-rending poetry you wrote yourself on the back of coffee shop napkins! Maybe….”

Sherlock cut John off dryly. “Yes, thank you John. I get the idea.” John just shrugged and grinned again. “What do we tell them?”

“The truth more or less, we met five years ago. We moved in together the day after we met. We’ve been close ever since. We didn’t start dating until _after_ you came back or else I look like a cheating bastard because I did have girlfriends before this.” Now Sherlock smiled again.

“Shall I tell them how I chased each and every one of them off in a jealous fit?” joked the curly haired man, and John guffawed. Not one woman had withstood the scathing remarks unleashed on them as Sherlock stripped them to their bones and exposed all their secrets.

“Yes! Some of those were brutal! At least three of them cried as they left. You won’t even have to make up a story you can just tell them the truth.” John had apologized after Sherlock had wreaked his havoc but most of John’s exes never returned his calls or texts after Sherlock was through with them. John got up and went to the kitchen to make dinner. Sherlock came in and they worked around each other companionably as Sherlock wrapped up his experiment and cleared the table while John cooked.

Sherlock came up behind John and nervously put his hand on John’s waist. John knew Sherlock had begun his research and was now practicing being John’s boyfriend. He leaned back into Sherlock’s hard lean body and let the detective become familiar with the heat and weight of him. Sherlock skittered away after a minute and hid in the living room but John just smiled hugely and finished cooking. They only had a week to get good at looking like they’d been a couple for a while.

Dinner was easy and simple. Sherlock had relaxed again and the men just enjoyed their food like normal with Sherlock stealing bites of everything he liked from John’s plate and John eating everything Sherlock left behind. _Same like every night, nothing different there_. John cleaned up and Sherlock got the living room ready for movies. Sherlock even laid out their fluffy blankets again and had wine waiting as John finished up.

Tonight they were watching foreign films, or what John considered foreign. Everything was in English and action packed as well as fairly bloody. Still they had all been made in far-away countries that weren’t the USA or England and so could be considered as foreign as John wanted. Sherlock sat a tiny bit closer to John so John pulled Sherlock’s arm around his shoulder and leaned up against him. Sherlock stopped breathing for a minute but John just smiled. This would be the least expected of them, especially in front of other Holmes’. It wouldn’t do to seem uncomfortable with something as ordinary as putting your arm around the person you theoretically had been with for ages. Sherlock’s hand curled into the arm of John’s jumper sleeve and he seemed to be hanging on. John liked it.

John had just reseated himself after changing the movie for the next one. Sherlock put his arm around John easily this time. As the movie began Sherlock leaned in, “I love you too John. You are my best friend and I’m glad of it.” John felt warm inside. He was comfortable and happy. Once again he and Sherlock were a team, getting ready for their next adventure and always, always backing each other up. It’s what they did.

When the movie was over John stretched alongside Sherlock. They were both tired now and it was very late. John got up, leaned over and pecked Sherlock on the cheek. “Goodnight.” He said and simply left Sherlock sitting in the dark mildly stunned. John closed his bedroom firmly and locked it tight for good measure. He barely got his pants down over his hips before his fist was closing around himself. His other hand covered his mouth as he stroked himself quickly. It was over in just a couple of minutes and John leaned against his wall, his come cooling in his hand where he’d caught it. _This week was going to be interesting_.

John had an early shift the next morning and didn’t see Sherlock. This clinic was far away and getting there involved a long ride on the Tube. John went directly to HR and gave them his notice. He covered his last shift, said farewell to the few people he’d become friendly with and then went home. He was content. John was just getting off the train when his phone buzzed.

“ _Lestrade called. Meet here now. – SH_ ” there was an address so John hailed a cab and went to the scene of the crime. Sherlock was already all over the place, shouting out deductions and putting everything together. He and John paused to share a smile then the detective went back to being amazing while his doctor watched. Both men kept catching each other’s eye and giggling as Sherlock worked. Donovan came over with a surly frown on her otherwise beautiful face. “Are you and _the freak_ having a good time? You’ve been eye-fucking since you got here. Why are you here anyway?”

“Hey Donovan, did Anderson’s wife come back early?” retorted John instantly. He didn’t like Donovan. He realized now it was because she didn’t like Sherlock. Having an affair with a married man didn’t impress John either. Anderson would never leave his wife and Donovan had been cheating with him for longer than John had been around.

Donovan was crowding a glaring John angrily up against a wall when Lestrade came over and chased her back. She was in a temper because of Anderson and rudely asked, “Why do we let the freak bring his boy toy here anyway? Just because he bends over for Sherlock doesn’t give him the right to attend crime scenes!” Lestrade went cold and pinned a suddenly silent Donovan with a serious look. Lestrade turned to John.

“Doctor Watson, I apologize for the very unprofessional words of my associate. Donovan, I believe you should return to the Yard, and enroll yourself in the next session of Harassment Awareness. Clearly the last session _you just completed_ did not take and is totally worthless! You will not be back on the job until you complete the course a second time!” Lestrade was angry.

Donovan tried to argue, “He’s not actually shagging the freak! Why should I have to?”

Lestrade cut her off abruptly. “Donovan. Holmes and Watson are _registered consultants_ for the Yard. Both of them! The personal activities of Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson are not up for public commentary! Sherlock is an openly homosexual man whom you have just outrageously insulted in a public place in front of his long-time partner! _Again!_ The fucking press is fifteen feet away! That can be construed as a hate-crime. I’ve asked you to shut the fuck up, to quit attacking Sherlock every time he’s called on a case, but you refuse! Who’s the professional here, you? _Go_ Donovan!”

The tall woman stormed away, her eyes angry but her mouth silent. John looked over to Lestrade. “She’s right. I’m not actually shagging Sherlock.” _Yet_. John had some plans brewing.

“That’s not even the point John and you know it. I can’t tolerate intolerance, as strange as that sounds. It shouldn’t matter that Sherlock is gay or if you two are dating or not or if you’re vegan or if you only eat baby animals! The work you do for the Met is important and Donovan should know better. She’d never do this to other consultants. For some reason she feels it’s alright to behave this way to you two. The public scolding will do her more good than wasting her time in that class again but that’s her own fault. She’s always going on about minorities and equality yet she still name calls and belittles people. Now she knows how it feels to be viewed as a bad-guy. The perspective will be good for her. Sherlock’s a good kid. He tries hard and you have helped him grow up so much. Donovan still treats Sherlock like he’s the same junkie we pulled off the streets over ten years ago.”

John appreciated Lestrade for what he had just done. John supposed he’d gotten used to Donovan’s vitriol after all these years. Sherlock was happy looking again, his buzzing back and forth slowing gradually until he stopped moving. He gave John the impression of a massive hummingbird that had finally gotten its fill. John waited for Sherlock to finish laying out the clues for Lestrade. With what Sherlock had found The Met should be able to convict their suspect. Sherlock was satisfied and John was proud. They left, walking shoulder to shoulder. As soon as they got into the cab Sherlock pulled John close and tucked the smaller man under his arm. John settled happily against the detective as they discussed the clues and the case. “Is this alright John?” asked Sherlock softly and John nodded.

“It’s good. We need to practice a lot if we’re going to convince everyone we’ve been together for a while. We’ll practice more at home.” Sherlock nodded but looked nervous. John placed his hand casually on Sherlock’s thigh and felt the tall thin man tremble. John concealed his own smile and enjoyed the rest of the trip. He was planning on enjoying every second of this long tease with Sherlock.

They ordered in that night. This time they got Chinese food and ate competitively, using their chopsticks which neither man was good at. It was a lot of fun and ended with both of them wearing half their meals and giggling almost uncontrollably. John had to get a tea towel to clean himself up with while Sherlock cleared their plates away. John shook the towel out over the bin and went to dab at Sherlock’s chest, both men still laughing softly. John looked up with a smile. Sherlock looked down and suddenly leaned in. Their lips met briefly and then the kiss was over. John just kept smiling. “Is that alright John? I felt the moment was appropriate.”

John nodded. “Perfect timing actually, that was the perfect time for a kiss.” Both men retreated to the living room. Tonight’s movies were foreign films again, this time chosen by Sherlock. As the films rolled by the tall man held John close and whispered the translations into his ear. It was lovely and intimate. John’s eyes fluttered more than once as Sherlock’s mouth very nearly touched his skin and as the warmth of Sherlock’s breath teased the doctor’s hair and neck. When the movies were done John pulled Sherlock in close and kissed him tenderly, their mouths moving gently together for a long minute. “Okay?” asked John softly after it was over. Sherlock nodded and John smiled once more.

That night John couldn’t keep his hands from plunging deep into his pants again. He had to cover his face with his pillow when he came, the memory of the scent and heat of Sherlock all the stimulation John needed to find his release. He had five days left.

 


	4. Practice Makes Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock Holmes is John Watson's best friend and there is nothing, absolutely nothing John isn't willing to do for his friend. Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received a small prompt and tried to work it in as best I could but this chapter had already been written as well as subsequent chapters (shh don't tell anyone the next two chapters are already done!) I just need to edit and make sure the following story line doesn't implode.

Early the next morning Sherlock hugged John and gently caressed his back. John sighed happily and wound his arms around Sherlock, pressing himself close. The detective pressed a kiss to John’s mouth before the doctor began to make breakfast. John cooked with a huge smile on his face, his heart light and happy. Sherlock seemed in a good mood and chattered happily about the case and how he was sure he could have it wrapped up by the time John got back from work. “Good, we’ll go out for dinner tonight. Someplace romantic if you can find somewhere.”

Sherlock took the challenge up silently. John was helped into his coat once more, this time a lingering if still closed-mouth kiss given with the brief hug. John couldn’t stop smiling and neither could Sherlock. John didn’t care if this was just practice. He’d take absolutely anything Sherlock would give him and be happy about it.

Another clinic received John’s notice. They weren’t happy about it and had been planning to offer John a more permanent contract. He refused kindly, “I have work that I’m committed to. It wouldn’t be fair for me to try and promise you my time when I can’t be sure it’s there to give.” He’d finished his morning shift and said farewell once again to the few people he’d gotten to know and left, anxious to get home.

That afternoon was busy. There was a call from Lestrade and Sherlock just turned John around at the door and they were gone the rest of the day. When they came back John had to shower to remove the grime of the alley he’d rolled in while tackling the suspect. Sherlock had gotten there just as John was knocking the burly would-be-art thief unconscious. The soldier was high on adrenalin from the chase as well as the heady scent of Sherlock who had checked John anxiously all over after Lestrade arrested the eventually conscious man. As soon as he was under the water John grasped hold of himself and tried to stay silent but Sherlock’s name slipped off his lips in a long soft moan. Hoping the water had distorted his ecstatic cry John got out. There was a wash of not-steamy air near the door. It had been opened while John was still under the water. John’s smile was toothy. _Gotcha!_

Sherlock was in his room but there was a note on the table, “ _Dinner at 7. Wear blue suit. – SH x_ ” Kisses. Well, nothing could have perked John up more. John walked back up to his room but paused outside Sherlock’s door. He heard a breathy pant and a stifled groan inside. His grin nearly split his face in two. _Tonight was going to be very interesting_. John retreated to his bedroom where Sherlock had apparently laid out the suit in question while John was showering.

John put on his red pants, just in case. Dressing carefully John even wiped the dust off his nicest shoes, polishing them up a bit and wearing his best socks as well. The tie was one of Sherlock’s. John supposed his tie collection had not passed inspection. Shrugging John knotted it carefully and examined his reflection in the mirror as he smoothed his hair down. Not too bad.

John went downstairs. Sherlock’s door was open but he wasn’t in his room, instead John got a breathtaking eyeful of the world’s only consulting detective in full date-mode. Sherlock was astounding. He was also dressed in blue but his suit was velvet and so dark it seemed almost black. His hair was artfully tousled and his eyes seemed to burn with intensity. “John, you look fantastic.”

“Not as good as you Sherlock. Wow.” John had a hard time keeping his smile from turning into a leer. Sherlock’s cheeks were very faintly flushed. They moved toward one another, examined each other from head to toe. “Thanks for the tie.”

“No problem John. I’ve always thought this one would go well with your eyes.” John smiled to himself when Sherlock confessed he’d been thinking about John’s eyes. Sherlock flushed a tiny bit more but didn’t waver. “Shall we?”

With his hand at the small of John’s back Sherlock escorted the doctor outside. A black car was waiting for them. “Mycroft being nice or do we owe him something for this?”

“He owes me in fact so he’s generously provided a car for the evening.” Sherlock even went so far as to open John’s door. Once they were seated Sherlock leaned over and pressed his mouth carefully to John’s. “I didn’t have a chance before we left.”

“You’d better give me another one to make up for it then.” said John with an impish grin but Sherlock leaned right over and kissed John a second time, this one slow and lazy. Both men were grinning when it was done. “Thanks.”

Dinner was at one of the posh new restaurants in town. Sherlock swept in without a reservation and was accosted by the concierge who was in turn taken aside by the owner. John and Sherlock were immediately seated in a very private booth. John was smiling at the wait-staff who were toadying at maximum for them now. Sherlock read the wine list and chose after John shook his head. He then offered John a menu but John shook his head again and let Sherlock decide. The tall man examined John for a moment then gave their orders quickly.

“Thanks Sherlock. I never know what to pick in places like this.” John felt easy and comfortable with Sherlock so he peered around curiously at the other patrons. John felt a long-fingered hand cover his. John gripped Sherlock’s fingers back and held his hand happily. “I like this.”

“You do? You’re not embarrassed to be out with a man?” Sherlock actually sounded nervous. John just looked at his best friend. Sherlock looked anxious _and_ as nervous as he sounded.

“I’m not embarrassed to be anywhere with _you_ Sherlock. _Yes_ you’ve gotten me to do embarrassing things but we usually do them together so it’s always okay. I don’t care of people see us holding hands or doing anything else really. I mean, people have assumed we’ve been dating for years now right? So what if someone sees us in a romantic setting. In fact….” John leaned over and kissed Sherlock very tenderly. He nibbled the tiniest bit on Sherlock’s lush bottom lip and heard Sherlock’s breath catch very tellingly. “There. Now hand-holding is the least people can expect from us.”

Dinner was fun. Sherlock had ordered some delicious appetizers and the main course was savory and perfectly done. The conversation was riveting and both men hardly noticed the time fly by. The server was offering them the dessert menu when John looked at Sherlock, “I’m full, love.” Sherlock nodded and asked for the check. To John’s complete lack of surprise the owner had refused payment. They paid in compliments instead, everyone happy with how the evening had turned out.

The taxi ride home was too brief. John was enjoying being out with Sherlock in all their finery but he also knew it was time to get home. Sherlock seemed to feel the same way. When they got through the door of 221 B Sherlock pulled John in for a soft sweet kiss. This time John licked across Sherlock’s lower lip suggestively. Only a moment passed before John was granted access. Sherlock was _delicious_.

It got heated extremely quickly. Somehow or other John found himself on the sofa with Sherlock. Both men were almost groaning and their mouths were glued together. John was pinned to the cushions by Sherlock who was lying on John, tugging the shorter man’s legs up to wrap around his narrow waist. John complied. Their chests were pressed together but Sherlock had his hips carefully elevated. “John….John stop.” moaned Sherlock. He sounded drunk. Reluctantly John ended his current kiss, and let his head fall back.

“What’s the matter Sherlock?” asked John gently. Sherlock had his face buried in John’s shirt and he was breathing hard. He mumbled something into John’s belly. “What? Sherlock I can’t make out what you’re saying.”

“I said I don’t want to practice anymore.” John didn’t say anything. He let his legs come down gently and kept his mouth shut. The wonderful haze of arousal he’d been enjoying entirely evaporated at Sherlock’s words. Sherlock didn’t look up. “John. John I don’t want to pretend with you.”

“Who do you want to pretend with then Sherlock?” John was feeling cold inside. He’d known this wasn’t real but this was pretty crummy timing. _Who could it be? Certainly not anyone from the Yard; who else did Sherlock know? It had to be someone John hadn’t met yet_.

“ _Nobody_ John, I don’t want to _pretend_ with you. I want it to be real.” Sherlock was looking down at John, his face unhappy and even a little worried. “I don’t want to pretend that what I feel isn’t real John. You called me ‘love’ at the restaurant. Did you mean that?”

“ _Yes_.” said John instantly. His glum mood had disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. He suddenly knew everything was changing and there was no more room for flirtation or vagueness, “I love you, more than a friend.”

“Good because I love you too, much more than just friends. I heard you earlier in the shower. I’ve never heard my name sound so sexy. I almost came.” Sherlock lowered his hips slowly and John groaned in surprise when he felt Sherlock’s erection press against his, “Oh _god_ , John! John, I know this is fast but I want you for real!”

“How is this fast? I’ve been flirting with you for _three_ years. Sherlock! Fuck, rock your hips. Yeah….yeah, that’s gorgeous.” John moaned as he felt Sherlock’s rigid length slide up and down slowly. It was intense, almost too much. The fabric had to go, “I’ve been waiting ages for this, my room _now_ Sherlock.”

Sherlock got up and almost yanked John off the sofa. They ran up the stairs eagerly, Sherlock leaning back on the door as he shut it behind them. “John,” moaned Sherlock, his eyes wandering down John’s body. “Get undressed.”

Maybe it would have been sexier to undress each other but it was faster just to do it themselves. Suddenly things weren’t going quickly enough and both men shed their suits with as much speed as they could muster. Sherlock was across the room in two steps, his hands already sliding into John’s pants to cup his ass, “Sherlock!”

They were on the bed all of a sudden and Sherlock was stripping John of his last garment, “ _Red_ John?

“I was going to make my move tonight but you beat me to it,” said John as he grabbed two big handfuls of Sherlock’s arse and pulled the man tight to him. “Tell me now Sherlock, virgin, yes or no.”

“No, not very experienced but not a virgin.” John didn’t want to know who had touched his Sherlock but found out anyway, “Once in Uni as an experiment. I didn’t like it so I didn’t do it again. I didn’t know the man. I picked him up in a club.” _Okay, no lingering romantic attachments. Good_.

“What do you want then Sherlock?” the detective was kissing John’s ear and John groaned. It felt incredibly good. John’s hands clutched and grabbed at Sherlock’s arse even more and Sherlock ground his hips into John’s again.

“I want to fuck you John and then I want you to fuck me. I want to do everything with you, everything we can imagine to do. I’ve been wanting to for so very long.” John just about came when he heard Sherlock’s voice growl out his demands. Sherlock’s hand had already migrated to between John’s ass cheeks and was very blatantly rubbing in small circles. “Right here John, I want my cock right here.”

John couldn’t really see a valid argument to deny Sherlock his wishes. He’d never been with a man before but right that second the thought of having Sherlock’s thick long cock buried up his ass sounded like the best idea in the world, “Oh god yes!”

 _Sherlock was amazing. Incredible! Fantastic!_ Clearly he’d done a LOT of research into the subject of sex. Experienced or not Sherlock was a natural at it. He worked his way over John deliberately. Sherlock found all of John’s sweet spots one after the other. He seemed to know that John’s nipples weren’t very sensitive but that if Sherlock lipped at the nape of his neck John would become almost unhinged. Sherlock unerringly found his way to that patch of skin between John’s cock and his hipbone that made John’s eyes roll back when Sherlock sucked on it lightly.

John almost passed out when Sherlock finally went down on him. _That wicked, talented, relentless tongue!_ It took all of John’s willpower to not spend with every silky slide of those plush lips over his shaft, “Your cock is perfect John, exactly what I imagined. It is just fucking perfect!” When John heard the distinctive click of the lube bottle he spread his legs high and wide, eager for this next step.

Sherlock really was a genius. His fingers were magical. Sherlock’s long digits were perfectly gentle, and as clever as the rest of him. He began to open John smoothly, eventually teasing his prostate just enough to keep John relaxed and moaning as he was stretched carefully. John’s hips were rocking involuntarily but the time Sherlock began to tease his third finger in there and gasped outright when a fourth coaxed its way into John’s now reluctant passage. “Have to John.” Sherlock sounded very strained. At long last Sherlock knelt back. “Bad time to ask. Condom? I’m clean.”

“Clean too. No condom. Go.” Sherlock went. He slicked himself heavily with lube. John took a good look at what was about to be inside him. Sherlock was fucking huge! His cock was very thick. His foreskin barely pulled passed the flared glans. John hadn’t even gotten his hands or mouth on it yet but Sherlock was going to be fucking him with that massive thing in just a second.

Sherlock lined himself up carefully, using his hand to coax his cock into John. Both men were panting. John groaned loudly as Sherlock began to push inward. _He was being torn in two!_ Sherlock rocked slowly and the discomfort faded. Bit at a time Sherlock worked himself into John’s tight body, moaning and almost shaking with effort. “You are so beautiful John, do you know that? You are possibly the most beautiful man in creation.”

 _Sherlock sounded sincere. He sounded amazed and grateful, like John was giving him a gift instead of it being the other way around_. John pulled Sherlock down for a kiss when he was finally fully seated. The pain had come and gone, “You’re the gorgeous one Sherlock. I love the way you look, it’s dead sexy. I’ve thought so since the second I laid eyes on you. You have no idea what I’ve thought about doing to you.”

Sherlock was moving gently now, both men breathing steadily as he began to gingerly thrust. “I’ve fantasized about doing this to you since the day you moved in. I’ve never been aroused simply by looking at someone until I met you. Your ass deserves medals. I’ve wanted to fuck it since the moment I first laid eyes on it. You’ve got the perfect ass John.”

“That’s you Sherlock. You’ve got the most amazing ass on the planet. I’m not even gay. I just want to fuck your ass forever. Maybe half of forever because your cock feels incredible right now, harder Sherlock, harder.” Sherlock began to thrust with greater assurance. He sat back on his heels and began to shimmy his hips slowly. John lost his mind. It was insanely good. John felt like this was the sensation he’d always been missing during sex. This was what he’d been searching for.

“That’s it John. God, I’m close. You are so tight, so hot inside. I know you’re not gay, John. It’s just me correct?” Sherlock’s voice was thick with passion but still curious.

John bucked his hips and wrung his own moan out of the tall man over him, “It’s just you Sherlock. It will only be you from now on. I hope you can handle that.”

“Good John. I can’t promise to be even a tiny bit nice to people you might have dated. So you’re mine?” Sherlock was thrusting vigorously now. John’s entire body shook with the force of it. He could barely speak but Sherlock was clearly waiting for an answer.

“I’m yours if you’re mine. I don’t share. I get jealous easy.” John confessed himself to Sherlock. _Jealousy_ was John’s greatest failing. Sherlock thrust upward a tiny bit and John saw stars, “Fuck! Do that again!” Sherlock did. John’s eyes nearly rolled back and he was moaning softly now. Sherlock bit at John’s neck.

“I’m yours John. I’ve been yours since the day we met. You won’t ever have to be jealous of me. You’re the only person in the world I want to be with. John. You are perfect, so perfect. So perfect John.” Sherlock’s large hand covered John and began to stroke. John’s hands clamped tight to Sherlock’s upper arms and he bit his lip in an effort to not ejaculate right that second. Sherlock had his face buried in John’s neck now and he almost sounded like he was sobbing in between thrusts. “John! I can’t hold back. It’s too good! John! Fuck!”

“Sherlock,” John’s voice had gone funny. “Sherlock, I’m coming. Oh!” John felt like he was turning inside out. He felt Sherlock’s hand jerking on his cock, the motions choppy and irregular. Sherlock went wild, his hips driving rhythmically into John. A long minute later John felt a hot rush inside him just as his orgasm peaked, it was almost more stimulation than he could deal with. Sherlock was groaning so loudly John was certain Mrs. Hudson could hear him clearly and possible all the neighbors up and down the street.

They lay there panting hard. The entire thing had taken barely twenty minutes. John started to laugh and Sherlock joined him, cock still buried in John’s ass. Each gale of laughter pushed the detective out more until he was finally entirely disconnected and both men were roaring with laughter. Finally their laughter petered out and they lay there on John’s bed grinning at one another, “This wasn’t quite what I had in mind. I had a whole long seduction planned out.” confessed Sherlock and John laughed softly.

“I did too. Well, not a long seduction but it was going to happen.” Sherlock nuzzled up to John who held the man as closely as he could. He felt relaxed, sated and very content to lay there with Sherlock. “So this is it? We’re in love and we’re dating?”

“Yes John. This is it.” John felt a surge of happiness like he’d never experienced before. _He loved Sherlock and Sherlock loved him, they were lovers now and were dating. John was about to meet Sherlock’s whole family so they could understand what John’s intentions were_.

“What do we tell your mum?” John suddenly realized Mummy Holmes probably had some very serious things to say to him.

“What would you like to tell her John?” John thought about that for a moment. _What would he say to his mum if he’d brought Sherlock back to meet his family? She’d be surprised at John’s choice of a man that was for certain_. Sherlock was reading John’s mind again, “Mummy is aware of my orientation though she doesn’t approve. She can’t say very much though since both her sons are gay.”

“What, Mycroft is gay too?” John shouldn’t have been surprised. In five years he’d never seen the minor government official with a woman apart from his PA. Sherlock raised his head and looked at John curiously. John really wasn’t interested in Mycroft and didn’t pay attention to Sherlock’s older brother often. They’d butted heads a few times and once John had even punched Mycroft in the nose. Sherlock had been very happy.

“John did you not know that Mycroft and Lestrade have been seeing one another for several years now?” John had not and the news clearly surprised him. “Well they have. I believe my brother is bringing the DI to the celebrations, probably to witness my theoretical fall from grace. Mycroft knew we weren’t dating, that’s why he waited so late to get me your invitation. He was hoping to put us on the spot.”

“Well good luck with _that_ Mycroft. Well, I guess if pressed I would tell your mum how much I love you, how I never plan to be anywhere else but by your side, and how my whole world revolves around you and always has. Oh yes, also that you took my virginity.”

“ _John Hamish Watson!_ You will NOT be discussing our intimacies with Mummy!” Sherlock sounded embarrassed now so John rolled over and looked at Sherlock in false dismay.

“Are you _ashamed_ of me Sherlock? That you bedded some lower class bit of rough, overwhelmed his senses and took that most precious of gifts?” John sounded melodramatic. Sherlock rolled his eyes and gave John a piercing look.

“I’m hardly ashamed of you John. Your arse was the only virginal part of you _Three Continents Watson_! As thrilling as it would be to refer to you as my _bit of rough_ I will most certainly not treat you like a piece on the side! I will warn you that several of my cousins will view both you and Lestrade exactly as such but only Mummy’s opinion matters.” Sherlock was actually concerned so John got serious.

“I’ll tell your mother that I plan to be with you for as long as we can manage in any way possible. I’ll tell her how I died when you died, and being with you is the only reason my heart beats. I’ll tell her how I’ve never met someone as incredible as you are, and I’ve traveled the globe searching. Don’t tell her my army nickname please? I don’t want to come off like some kind of tart, and some of those stories were highly exaggerated.” John did want to make a good impression after all.

“Well I think I can keep the nickname under wraps for now but don’t be surprised if Mycroft mentions it.” Sherlock shifted around so he could look into John’s face again, “John it wasn’t easy for me to be away from you. I know I never told you. I know you were extremely unhappy when you thought I died and I tried to come back as soon as I could. I didn’t want to be gone in the first place.”

“I’d rather not think about that right now anyway Sherlock. I have something important to ask.” Sherlock looked concerned but John reached down and caressed Sherlock’s extremely plush behind, “That one time in Uni, did your one-off have you?”

Sherlock shook his head slowly, “I topped. We had our time and then I left. It wasn’t very satisfying so I never troubled myself to make another effort.”

“What about this time? Good or not?” John very much enjoyed the shark-like grin that spread across Sherlock’s face.

“Extremely good John, incredible even, addictive? Definitely! I hope you recover fast because I believe we have about five years’ worth of makeup sex to get through.” Sherlock began to kiss John. The heat rebuilt just as quickly as it had before and in a few minutes they were rutting against one another. “John. John I want you to fuck me. Please.”

Sherlock found himself on his stomach with his legs spread wide only a few moments later. John was already caressing him intimately, the bottle of lube popping open loudly. “I’ve wanted this for years Sherlock.” Sherlock’s only response was to spread his legs even more and tilt his hips to grant John easier access. John took full advantage of it.

John made love to Sherlock. He kissed his way over Sherlock’s back and shoulders as his hands worked slowly between Sherlock’s cheeks. John planned for another time when he would learn Sherlock properly from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. John wanted to tasted everywhere, learn Sherlock’s textures and flavors. Tonight wasn’t the right time for that. Sherlock wanted to be taken and John was impatient to do so. When Sherlock was ready John pushed himself in slowly. Sherlock cried out several times, his whole body tensing and trembling as John claimed him. “John! Oh fucking Christ never stop!”

Sherlock was an animal. He reared back eagerly as John began to thrust slowly. Sherlock didn’t want to go slow. John began to ride Sherlock hard and Sherlock went wild. John gasped out the words, “I thought no one has had you like this before?” and grunted as Sherlock reared back.

“If I’d known how good it was we would have done this right from the first night.” gasped Sherlock back. “I’ve never wanted anyone before, just you.” John held onto Sherlock’s hips, entirely incapable of speaking now. Sherlock’s body was too tight, too hot. The sensations were too intense, too different from what John knew. He loved Sherlock like he’d never loved any of his previous partners and that made all the difference.

“Sherlock, oh mother fucking god Sherlock!” John’s orgasm took him by surprise. He reached around desperately only to find Sherlock bucking into his own hand, John’s name ringing out through the room as he came as well. John buried his face between Sherlock’s shoulder blades, his hips still driving inward instinctively. “I love you Sherlock, fuck.”

Both men collapsed and just lay there sweating heavily. John slid right off Sherlock’s back and stuck to his side. A minute or so of being glued together had both men shaking with silent giggles until their laughter burst out again. Sherlock sounded fond, “Shower?”

“Yeah,” they rolled out of John’s bed and staggered to the shower. It was a little small with both of them in there but that was perfectly fine. They washed each other all over before John led Sherlock out to towel him off. “Can we sleep in your room tonight? My sheets are sticky.”

“I suppose it’s the least I can do.” sighed Sherlock as if he were being put out. “Do you actually want to sleep with me or are you just too lazy to make your bed?”

“I want to sleep with you Sherlock but yes, I’m too lazy to remake my bed.” Sherlock laughed and both men were content and happy as they crawled naked into Sherlock’s big bed. They cuddled up tight and John snuggled his head happily onto Sherlock’s chest, “You know I would have helped you with your family anyway. You really are my best friend and I’ll always be willing to do whatever you need.”

“Are you saying we _didn’t_ need to take each other’s virginity in order to get through next week?” joked Sherlock sleepily. John smiled and giggled.

“I’m glad we did that. I just want you to know that I wanted this even without being pushed a little faster by Mycroft and Mummy. I would have gotten here eventually, unless you said no of course.”  
John couldn’t keep his eyes open and he was so incredibly relaxed.

Sherlock’s voice was soft and rumbling, “I doubt I’d ever be able to truly say no to you John.” both men fell asleep mid-conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah.....I have a plan


	5. The Things We Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock are working on their relationship in anticipation of meeting Mummy Holmes.

The next day after a brief but loving breakfast John left for the day. He had a lot of stops to make. One at a time he visited each clinic he worked with and gave them his notice. All of them were in very different directions so it took a lot of time to get back and forth between them. By the time John was done the entire day had gone by. He’d had lunch at a street market, just grabbing a small plate of steamy dumplings right off the rack. Sherlock had been texting him all day, making John smile every time he saw Sherlock’s new signature _– SH x_.

Lestrade was at the flat by the time John got home. He and Sherlock were pouring over a mass of photographs of the latest crime scene being offered to the detective. Sherlock was looking at them intently but still tilted his head, offering his cheek. John leaned over and with a smirk, kissed Sherlock right in front of Lestrade before retreating to the kitchen to make tea and get dinner going. There was a satisfyingly shocked silence from the Detective Inspector. “Sherlock did you eat lunch?” queried the doctor.

“No. Lestrade will stay for dinner though.” John nodded. It was almost dinner time anyway and it didn’t look like Lestrade was anywhere near ready to leave. John grinned as he looked forward to the inevitable questions. Sure enough a few minutes later Lestrade came in bearing two empty tea cups. John took them and made fresh tea.

“John…I know it’s none of my business but are you and Sherlock…..” he obviously didn’t know what to say.

“You’re right. It is none of your business but yes. What about you and Mycroft?” Greg turned a brilliant shade of red and he looked stunned. “Sherlock just told me. Why have you kept it a secret all this time?”

“I didn’t want people to think he was helping me climb the ladder. He’s powerful, known in certain circles. I’m just some bit of rough.” John stopped working on dinner when he heard Lestrade’s bitter description of himself, and called Sherlock into the kitchen.

“Did you hear what Greg just called himself in relation to your brother?” demanded John angrily. He respected Lestrade. Greg was a decent and hardworking man. His failed marriages were due to his relentless persistence on the job, a characteristic that has pulled him up the ranks on his own merit. None of his wives had understood his commitment and one at a time they’d abandoned him. Sherlock also looked terse.

“Lestrade, is this the impression my brother has given you?” asked Sherlock. Now that he and John were involved John hoped that Sherlock could see how emotionally damaging such a title could be. It seemed that he did because Sherlock looked grim. Sherlock was fond of Lestrade no matter how he treated him, it was a lot better than how Sherlock treated nearly everyone else.

Lestrade looked at both of them, his expression guarded. “He’s never said it to me but he’s also never corrected anyone else who’s said it to both of us. I don’t really go out in public with him anymore. Now we meet at his place whenever he’s free.”

Sherlock stalked away and John heard their bedroom door slam. A minute later he could hear Sherlock shouting over the phone, his voice muted by the walls and doors between them. He came out ten minutes later looking perfectly calm and accepted a cup of tea from John. Dinner was ready so John served all three of them a large portion of the stir-fry he had knocked together. They were just finishing when a polite tap was heard at the door.

Mycroft stood there looking chagrined. Sherlock glared at his brother who went straight to the DI, “Gregory, Sherlock has made me aware of something I have been grievously negligent of. I would like to take you out tonight so we may discuss it, if you’re willing.” Greg looked floored. He had never mentioned his relationship to Mycroft in front of John or Sherlock before and now it seemed that all of them were aware of it. He nodded stiffly, said goodnight to John and Sherlock and followed Mycroft.

Sherlock looked satisfied with his brother’s departure. “I should have known as much. Lestrade would never put himself forward and Mycroft is too arrogant to look back. My brother will make this up to Lestrade, don’t worry John. I would never let someone get away with denigrating you, even if we hadn’t become lovers. You are my best friend and the person I respect _most_ in the world. The same should be said of Mycroft and Greg!”

John thought about that as he washed up. He thought of all their interactions with the public and realized that not once had Sherlock allowed anyone to get away with insulting John or casting any shadow on the doctor’s reputation. Sherlock had always been like that. In fact Sherlock often twisted insults around so they targeted him and _not_ John. Sherlock was the only one allowed to call John an idiot. When someone had once said it in public Sherlock had nearly gotten violent. Sherlock came up behind John, almost shy again, “I’ve loved you for a long time John. I’ve never been able to bear anyone thinking ill of you. You are an incredible person. Anyone should be able to see that with their first glance.”

Sherlock was determined after that. They only had a couple of days left before they needed to head to Holmes Manor. In between a last minute case which left them no free time Sherlock took John shopping and forced the soldier to buy two dinner suits, a selection of fine shirts and other accessories. “The rest of your clothes are perfectly fine John, it’s only during the evening meal that Mummy insists on formality.” John should have realized this. Sherlock and Mycroft both nearly always wore suits of the highest quality. That he’d missed a clue so huge worried John a little and for the first time he began to feel a bit nervous. Sherlock only wore casual clothes when he was in disguise. John took a deep breath and just paid for everything Sherlock chose for him with their card.

The day of the journey Sherlock rented a car for them, “We can leave the manor and tour around when the cousins get to be too much. We can leave early too if things get unpleasant.” Sherlock was anxious. He got progressively edgier the closer to his mother’s home they got.

“Unpleasant? Unpleasant how?” John’s anxiety was ratcheting higher with every minute that went by. Sherlock was exhibiting unusually nervous signs and that made John more than a tad worried, “Maybe you should be telling me what I’m really in for Sherlock! Don’t let me find out the hard way because we both know I don’t deal well with that.”

 _It was actually a good thing that John had left his gun behind. If he got mad enough he’d seriously consider one or two probably not-fatal shots to someone who was truly annoying him. If he was going to be beset with Sherlock-clones he needed to know now so he could prepare himself somehow_. Sherlock was chewing on his lip looking as anxious as John felt and that did not help John one iota.

“Mycroft and I do not have the best people skills in the world. You know this. He has made up for it by replacing social competence with extreme diplomacy which is very nearly the same thing. I don’t do that, as you also well know. Another thing you don’t know is that my whole family is rather peculiar. You’ve heard the phrase ‘ _there’s a fine line between genius and insanity_ ’? Well my family doesn’t have that line. We got rid of it generations ago.”

 _Holy hell what was John in for?_ An entire mansion filled to capacity with people that Sherlock _Mad Scientist_ Holmes thought of as peculiar! _How insane were these people if_ Sherlock _thought they were noticeably off-balance?_ Suddenly John was wondering if he’d made the right choice in agreeing to go for an entire week.

 _This was worse than a zombie outbreak. These monsters had brains of their own and wanted to pick John’s right out of his head, keeping him alive and aware as long as possible as they dragged each and every part of his psyche out to play with. John seriously thought about what he was about to do to himself. He set aside the flirtation and the incredible sex and really considered what the next seven days would be like. He couldn’t do it_.

John downsized the problem and imagined dinner with Sherlock and Mycroft. _It was horrible_. John added breakfast with the brothers, followed by lunch. Make it _two_ Mycrofts, or even _three_ Mycrofts. Make it a dozen of each, twenty-four Holmes’ sitting at the same table, and being smart at each other while John sat there with a rapidly plummeting IQ. _Compared to them John may as well have equipped himself with a wooden club and dragged it around while wearing nothing but a fur loin cloth. What the hell had he been thinking of when he agreed to do this?_

He’d been thinking about how to get Sherlock into bed and nothing beyond that. Before this John couldn’t see past their now shared sheets, couldn’t see past the perfection of his lover. John held onto that thought. _That’s why he’d do this. He’d throw himself in the crucible for Sherlock_. John sat there and fantasized until he calmed down. Well, until he stopped panicking at any rate. Now he was agitated in a whole different way.

“John you haven’t said anything for nearly fifteen minutes. Do you need me to pull over?” John nodded vigorously. Sherlock found a rest area thick with trees and pulled in. He shut off their car and looked at John with concern.

John pulled Sherlock over and kissed him as hard as he could. John needed to fortify himself if he was going to be surrounded by Sherlock’s kith and kin for seven entire days. “Sherlock get in the back seat now.” Sherlock gave John a lopsided grin and did as he was told. John joined him quickly, stripping off his jeans and pants quickly. “We never take our time.” he complained in a teasing voice. Sherlock magically produced a foil packet of lube. In fewer minutes than they really should have used John was sliding himself carefully onto Sherlock, grimacing at the burn from not stretching enough but not stopping.

He had to wait a minute once Sherlock was fully seated. The dark haired man had his eyes squeezed shut and he was breathing in fast little pants already. “John! This is amazing. Please, don’t move.” Sherlock was biting onto John’s coat lapel and he looked very strained. John felt Sherlock’s hands caressing his back gently, as if he were soothing John but John realized it was Sherlock trying to calm himself down so he wouldn’t just come immediately.

That turned John on an intense amount. John kissed Sherlock hard once more. “Sherlock your family is going to absolutely destroy me aren’t they? I need to feel you somehow, to have something to focus on. I want this Sherlock, make it last.”

Sherlock looked pale again, serious. John’s words gave him the control he needed and he steeled himself to begin moving slowly. Sherlock kept his hands on John’s hips, directing his motions until they found a rhythm that suited them both. John was moaning softly and riding easier when Sherlock suddenly swiveled his hips. John yipped as the intensity of Sherlock’s thrust increased exponentially. “John. _Beautiful_ John, god you’re beautiful. I love how you look John, like honey and sunlight, just beautiful. My John!”

The car was large enough that John was able to ride Sherlock easily. Sherlock’s breathes were now coming in shuddery pants and that turned John on even more. “Don’t come yet John, don’t come!” begged Sherlock who began to groan loudly. John felt that damp spurt deep inside his body and groaned with Sherlock, biting his lip to keep from orgasming with his lover.

Sherlock pulled himself away carefully and moved John around until he was almost lying on the back seat. Sherlock’s head went down and John couldn’t help the sounds he made as Sherlock awkwardly gave him head in a car for the first time. It was perfect. It only took a couple of minutes before John was coming deep down Sherlock’s throat, the man having pushed John’s cock as far into his mouth as he could manage and kept it there. When John finally finished Sherlock weakly sat back and they panted together.

“That was insanely hot.” said John weakly. He glanced at his watch. Once again it had taken almost no time. Sherlock was grinning as he leaned over and kissed John messily. John grinned back when he tasted himself on Sherlock’s lips.

“I’ll have to kiss everyone on the cheek when we get there.” said Sherlock with a devilish grin. John burst out laughing. _Sherlock was going to kiss all his relatives with the same mouth he’d just had John’s cock in_. “It will be our pre-emptive strike.”

Back to back like always, the Baker Street Boys. “My ass is killing me.” reported John. Sherlock giggled and closed his eyes, a small blush gracing his face. “It’s good. It’s what I wanted.”

“You wanted to hurt?” Sherlock who now looked unhappy. John shook his head and tried to explain.

“Not hurt, just be aware of it. I’ll like walking around and knowing we did this, that I can still feel what it was like to have you in me. I won’t mind the insults so much when I’m busy thinking about how your come is in my ass.” Sherlock groaned softly at the thought.

“John. We’re never going to get there if you keep turning me on.” Sherlock’s voice was deep and gravelly. He helped John up. It was a lot harder to get back into his pants and trousers than it was to get out of them for some reason. Sherlock was no help. He kept tugging John’s pants down to fondle his ass. “Your ass is something else John. Have I mentioned that?”

“Only three or four times every day.” said John with a smile. Sherlock really was taken with John’s behind. “Take me to bed early tonight Sherlock and I’ll let you do anything you want to my ass.”

“It’s a promise John. We can leave right after dinner.” Both of them giggled as they got back into the front seat. Sherlock needed kisses now so John provided them until Sherlock was ready to drive the last bit to his mother’s house. They’d be getting there just before the evening meal.

John gave himself a talking to. _Sherlock’s mother wanted to meet John. She’d arranged all of this specifically so she could do so. That was good, right? The rest of the family would be there but that was okay too. So they were probably all incredibly brilliant. John wasn’t mentally challenged! He was a good doctor and had made Captain in the army. He had his own credentials to be proud of and he’d earned it all himself. Sherlock loved him and that had to mean something, right? It wasn’t just sex because he and Sherlock had been best friends right from the start_.

“ _Why_ do you love me?” John needed some clarification before he had no more time to ask. They were approaching Mummy Holmes’ neighborhood. Sherlock glanced over to John before returning his attention to the road.

“You are the most honorable man I’ve ever met. You don’t subscribe to unnecessary guilt about actions you’ve been forced to take and I admire that. You killed a man for me right after we met, and that really turned my head. I like the way I feel when we’re together, and you don’t actually annoy me even though I complain a lot. You’re patient with me, more than any other person ever has been. You don’t seem to think I’m strange even though I do strange things. You look after me, look out for me; you miss me when I’m not around. I quite like that. You don’t try to change me except where I’m hurting myself. You admire all the things about me that others have found unseemly. You believe me when I tell you something incredible, and that in and of itself is a quality I treasure. You trust that I know what I’m talking about even if you don’t understand it yourself. You believe me. I feel safe around you. I feel comfortable around you. With you John life has never been so easy, and I’ve grown very accustomed to it. I wouldn’t want to lose any of it. We have fun together and I don’t have fun with anyone else.”

“You forgot the part where I’m a damn good shag.” added John which earned him a snort from Sherlock who was now pulling into the long hedge obscured and winding drive of his Mother’s property.

“That was very recent John and not why I fell in love with you. That’s just a happy bonus. Brace yourself my heart, we’re here.” John looked at the manor that came into view. It was vast and John suddenly had an impression of an old American horror movie he’d once seen. The house was the epitome of a Gothic wet dream. It was stone, covered in ornate carvings and there were even gargoyles. Wrought iron featured heavily and several of the windows were stained glass. John swallowed and began to breathe the way he had been taught in the army to calm himself. The word _mansion_ in his head didn’t match the actuality of the massive building in front of him.

There were people waiting in the large driveway. Servants in actual livery, black of course, trimmed in silver. They opened the doors for John and Sherlock before they took the keys and unloaded their luggage. John stood there awkwardly on the pavement until Sherlock took his arm and led him inside. Taking a deep breath John steeled himself. It was time to meet the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a vision of Sherlock's family. I hope John can withstand it. After all, they're 'a bit peculiar'.


	6. There's No Place Like Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has agreed to go meet Sherlock's family and now they've arrived. How will our doctor fare surrounded by so many?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this today. I got into some chocolate, had a cookie, drank one more cup of coffee than is medically recommended and then watched the Olympics. I'm bouncing off the walls and I have no patience.

Holmes Manor loomed over the doctor. Following the long set of shallow stone steps that led to main doors John could feel the warmth of the day leave him. The stones were cold and dead feeling. As soon as they stepped in they were in the middle of a large gathering of richly elegant people. John shouldn’t have been surprised but there was a receiving line. John’s arm was firmly in Sherlock’s as he swept them past the people waiting to be greeted. All of them were tall, willowy and beautiful. Their eyes glittered darkly as the pair walked by and no one said a word.

John looked up at one classically perfect face after another until finally he was faced with a grand dame of statuesque proportions. Her silver hair was swept up in an elegant chignon and her dark green gown covered her from her chin all the way down to the floor. Sherlock and Mycroft had clearly gotten their eyes from her and Sherlock had obviously inherited her looks. John could see all the features he loved best from the tilt of her eyes to the sharpness of her cheekbones. She looked like a queen.

Mummy Holmes looked down at John. Sherlock kissed her cheek gently, “Hello Mummy. May I present my partner, Captain John Hamish Watson, Md. John, please allow me to introduce you to my mother, Victoria St. Claire Holmes.”

“Sherlock, your brother has been here for hours already. What kept you?” Mummy had not deigned to acknowledge John. He braced his feet, stiffened his back and would not allow the insult show on his face. _This was more of a war than he had realized but if Sherlock was the spoils to be claimed then John wasn’t going to give up just because some aristocratic old biddy was too frosty to say hello_.

“The drive was a bit longer than I planned for, I wanted to show John around a bit and we lost track of time.” Sherlock tried to draw his mother’s attention back to John but she had already moved on to the next person in line. Sherlock escorted a silent John away from the maliciously curious gaze of his relatives and brought him through the maze of the mansion to his rooms.

Sherlock’s old room was bigger than 221 B. He had a bedroom, a sitting room, a dressing room, his own en-suite bathroom and even a reading room. The shelves were heavy with books and diagrams of every description were pinned to the walls. John felt like he was in a bit of shock. He’d never been snubbed quite like that before, and in front of everyone he hadn’t even met yet. Sherlock took John’s hands and chaffed them between his, “John, I don’t know what to say…”

There was a tap at the door. Sherlock looked at John before sighing and answering it. It was Greg and Mycroft. They pushed their way in and Greg was already shouting, “She didn’t even look at me! She stared right through me like I wasn’t even there! We’ve been here for _three hours_ and she hasn’t said one damned word to me, and all the cousins are just killing themselves laughing.” Perversely that made John feel a lot better. _It wasn’t just him. He and Greg were in this together_.

Sherlock cut the DI off, “She’s just done the same to John just now. She refused to greet him and didn’t even say hello to me. She was in a _mood_.” Greg looked at John before scowling at the floor.

Mycroft stepped forward and tried to put his hand on Greg’s should but the silver-haired man shrugged it off angrily and went to stand by the window. His pride was very clearly bruised. John went to talk to him, “Sherlock said something like this might happen. Think of it like a test. She’s pushing us on purpose to see if we’ll break. Come on Greg. We bagged the Holmes brothers! We can deal with their mum. So what if the cousins are laughing up their sleeves? Who cares? We’re not going to be friends with them, we’re here to meet Mummy and that’s pretty much it. We’re already done but since we’re here why not have some fun with it yeah? We have two incredibly well informed men in our arsenal. These snakes-in-the-grass are toying with the wrong blokes. Come on Lestrade, treat them like the criminals they probably are and let’s kick a little posh ass, what do you say?”

Greg was smiling by the time John wound down, “You’re right John. I snagged Myc and he’s as uppity as they get. If I can win him over why should I worry about them? Alright then, deal. Let’s kick some inbred butt.”

“Our family is not _inbred!_ ” protested Mycroft. He’d approached Greg cautiously and the DI pulled the taller man tight to him, both of them sharing a smile now.

“Yes it is.” said John. “Look at the length of your neck, _inbreeding_ that is.” Sherlock just laughed. It was an old joke of theirs that began back when they’d first met and had a late night conversation about royalty and teeth. John had pointed out that all the old Period clothes involved extremely high collars as well, so high that the regular folk could never manage, and teased Sherlock about his long neck.

“Well I for one want to bring John down to meet as many of them as we can before dinner. Come on John, on with your dinner suit.” Sherlock was unpacking rapidly. John was confused as Mycroft and Greg left to also redress for dinner. “We have our pre-emptive strike to deliver.”

 _Oh. So that’s why Sherlock wanted to do the meet and greet now, before he ate or drank anything_. John was entirely happy again and both men giggled their way through their toilet. Checking each other over carefully Sherlock took John’s arm and led him back to the main room.

Sherlock’s extreme friendliness was looked upon with suspicion as he kissed everyone on the cheek. He introduced them to John, always giving John’s name first before allowing John to be introduced to the cousin in question. It infuriated all of them. They got most of the way through the crowd, John long having given up even pretending to remember anyone’s name. A bell rang after a while and the crowd began to move slowly toward a large dining hall. Sherlock escorted John tenderly, holding the doctor’s arm gently and treating him with extreme deference. John winked at Sherlock. “I feel like a hobbit. What’s with your genetics? I feel like we’re in the _All Elves Edition_ of _Lord of the Rings_.”

“We’ve been deliberately breeding with various families for centuries. It tends to result in very regular presentation of certain characteristics, rather like pedigreed dogs. Just like certain bloodlines we’ve managed to look fantastic while being incredibly damaged where it can’t be seen.” Mycroft was probably the least beautiful person here but he was still incredibly striking. John felt frumpy, even in his sharp new suit. Sherlock leaned down and whispered in his ear, “They’re all empty vessels filled with spite and malice, nothing else. You are my conductor of light, you shine bright enough to light up any dark place and this is a dark place, the darkest. Thank you John for being brave enough to come here with me.”

They arrived at the table just as Sherlock finished speaking. John groaned to himself when he realized he was sitting at the head table with Mummy. Mycroft was on her right and Sherlock would be on her left, Greg and John were seated next to their partners. After that all the rest of the Holmes’ sorted themselves out and were seated. Mummy said nothing to them, only having a few words with Mycroft as the meal was served.

It was _ghastly_. The food was delicious but the cold calculating stares John received from everyone put him off his meal. He was sitting beside a pompous man who went by the name Aloysius. “So you’re Sherlock’s _little_ friend.” The observation was rude in so many ways John wanted to pop the man right in the face.

“Yeah, he’s pretty great.” John said instead, making himself smile at the tall man by his side. Aloysius reminded John of a movie villain. He was thin and pale with long hair caught back in a neat tail. He would have looked perfectly at home two centuries ago.

“How does someone as _diminutive_ as you keep up with Sherlock?” Aloysius was smiling with his mouth but his blue eyes were like ice. The man deliberately looked John over, his expression as malicious as everyone else’s seemed to be.

“Aloysius restrain yourself.” hissed Sherlock. John was counting under his breath, willing himself not to punch the man right in the face like he wanted to so badly. _Taunts about John’s height? Really?_

Aloysius merely bared his teeth in a smirk, “Why Sherlock? He’s short. He’s got little tiny legs that don’t even reach the floor. My question is an honest one. How does your _pet_ keep up?” John flushed. His feet didn’t reach the floor. The chairs were very tall and his toes only just managed to graze the parquet.

“John is not my pet! He’s my _partner_. Perhaps that’s a concept that escapes you since I don’t need to _pay_ John to keep me company.” The smirk dropped right off Aloysius’ face at the jibe. “John is extraordinarily capable. I wouldn’t test _his_ goodwill if I were _you_ cousin. Better foes than you have tried; if they were alive still they would caution you right now.”

If it were possible for the colorless man to pale he would have. He settled for ignoring John instead. The doctor felt Sherlock take his hand and he squeezed back gratefully. John didn’t really want to fight with Sherlock’s family and he should have expected outright insults. This whole week wasn’t looking to turn out well but John just squared his shoulders and got on with the meal.

Later on when the family gathered for drinks John was wishing for the cold reception of dinner as the sharks turned as one and smiled at both John and Greg. The Holmes family was as beautiful and disturbing as Sherlock had tried to describe. All of them possessed an almost unearthly beauty, their eyes dramatic, and their hair thick and shining. Most were dark like Sherlock but a good portion of them shared Mycroft’s coloring, a bevy of reds and auburns sprinkling the crowd. Greg leaned down and whispered to John who had to stifle a giggle. John snapped his fingers twice and now Greg was the one trying not to laugh. They grinned at each other. It was time to play.

John switched arms with Sherlock so that John was now the one escorting the taller man proudly on his arm. Sherlock smiled shyly, and a high blush graced his cheeks. John got a collection of cold stares from the surrounding cousins but he didn’t care anymore. _He had Sherlock and that’s all that was important_. They did their rounds and met more of the family. Each smile was a baring of teeth, each greeting bitten out carefully as sharp eyes danced over John. He wondered what secrets of his were being divined.

“When does the waltzing start?” asked John. There were ball gowns and elegant black suits aplenty. He was glad Sherlock had made him pick up some proper evening wear but John still planned on wearing his jeans and jumpers the next day. Everyone seemed to be wearing bespoke clothes and real jewels. John idly wondered how much money had been squandered just to twinkle around at a family birthday dinner. “What about the cake?”

“There isn’t going to be dancing tonight. Mummy’s birthday is in two days, there’ll be dancing then. Mummy hates cake. There won’t be one.” A tall girl approached Sherlock and John. Her face was pale and elaborately made up and her dress seemed to be made of bands of black fabric that wound around her narrow body. Her hair was straight and nearly blond with only a hint of fire. John got the disturbing impression of a punk rock Alice in Wonderland.

With an angelic and soft voice she said, “Grand’Mere wishes to speak with you Sherlock. Alone.” Sherlock looked apologetically to John who just shrugged and let go of Sherlock’s arm. This was the first time Mummy had asked for Sherlock. John wasn’t going to get in his lover’s way. Sherlock slipped away through the crowd. “You are to come with me to wait in the withdrawing room.”

The girl was expressionless and almost vacant looking. John felt uneasy but followed where she led. There were many halls between the ballroom and the small book filled room John found himself in. The door clicked shut behind him and John realized he was alone. Ten seconds later he realized he was locked in. Girlish laughter floated through. “Pretty pet. Pretty pretty pretty pet. I will keep you for myself. I have a cage all waiting for my new golden toy. Pretty pretty pretty.” _Oh god! He’d just been lured away by a girl probably not even in her majority!_

John wasn’t going to tolerate that. The girl stayed outside the door giggling insanely and chanting the word “pretty” over and over again. John checked the room over; his suspicions confirmed when an elaborate light fixture caught his eye. It looked exactly like a fixture he had seen in a movie once and sure enough when John pulled it a hidden panel opened up to reveal a slightly dusty hallway. John left the locked room behind _. Of course the Holmes would have secret passages in their home_. John wasn’t the least surprised. He followed the hall carefully, lighting the way with his key-ring, a useful tool he kept with him at all times. He’d lived with Sherlock’s madness for years and being stuck in the dark happened without warning many times.

There were many exits but John listened carefully at each one before moving on. The girl had walked him for several minutes so John didn’t exactly know where he was. Finally he heard the murmur of the crowd. Listening carefully once again at a hidden panel John opened it slowly. He was back in the ballroom but everyone’s back was turned. He stepped out and the panel closed itself seamlessly behind him. Another beautiful cousin turned and gasped in surprise at seeing John behind him. “Where did you come from? There was no one here a moment ago!”

“Through the wall.” began John but the tall blond man gasped again and staggered back. His evening clothes were obviously from different eras as if he’d taken bits from several outfits and pieced a new one together. He was wearing a lot of lace for a man as well. Dark blue eyes bugged out as he looked at John.

“So it’s true! It _is_ possible to slip seemingly solid matter through other solid matter! Do you control your molecules? Is that how you did it? Was it the vibration of your body? Tell me! _I demand to know!_ ” The man was strident and almost desperate sounding.

“No, I came through the door.” John tried to explain again but the man wouldn’t listen. He was peering anxiously behind John, craning his long neck like a bird.

“There is no door. Is it metaphysical? Is it a door in the mind that allows you to control your being? Teach me the _Door Method_ , I demand it!” John edged away and the tall man seemed to want to follow him but stayed near the wall where John had emerged. “Come back. I demand it!”

John ended up bumping into another tall cousin, this one hypothetically female since it was dressed in a long gown but the face was incredibly masculine. John thought of all the times Sherlock had dressed as a woman for work, he was good at it, and looked substantially more feminine than the individual in front of him. “The war is coming and we’re all going to die.” he/she stated grimly. “Have you come to kill us? You look untrustworthy. Your hands are too small. You can’t trust people with small hands.”

John bit his lip and elected to say nothing. He kept moving away from the latest mad-eyed stare being given him by the person. Now a stiffly gowned woman with violently red hair peered down at John. “Are you a Brownie? Have the _Little People_ returned? Tell your king I have kept the faith! The Elder Races are still respected!”

“Okay.” said John to himself as he threaded his way carefully through the crowd. He was too short to see where he was going and ended up bumping his way past one relation after another apologetically until he happened upon Sherlock who was also looking for him. “Okay Sherlock. We’re going home. Your family is cracked in all the wrong places.”

Sherlock put his arm into John’s and spoke softly. “I told you John! Mummy didn’t even want to see me and now she’s very cross. Did Elspeth harm you?”

John hissed back, “She trapped me in a reading-room and no, you said your family was _peculiar!_ What you should have said was ‘ _John my family is stark raving mad and Mycroft is showing up with a van full of straight-jackets, care to lend a hand?_ ’ Then I would have understood!”

Sherlock looked so miserable. He stared at the floor unhappily. John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Sherlock could not be held responsible for his family’s behavior. If that were true then John would have died of humiliation years ago from the antics of his own family. John stepped closer to Sherlock and put his hand affectionately on the taller man’s cheek, “We’re going to stay and we’re going to remain _together_ no matter who says what to us alright? So far I’ve been kidnapped, one of your cousins thinks I can walk through walls, another one thinks I’m one of the Little People and another one thinks I’m here to kill everyone because my hands are too small. I _really_ need a drink.”

Sherlock was blushing but also laughing helplessly as John listed his woes. The tall man put his arm around John’s shoulder and led him to the open bar where they mixed their own drinks. “I’ve never really seen them through another person’s eyes. I grew up with these people so I suppose I’m used to their personalities. Thank you John for being brave and remaining with me.”

“Well I am a soldier. It’s my duty to guard your ass.” John leered up at Sherlock who turned completely scarlet. John laughed and Sherlock whacked him in the shoulder. “If there’s no dancing tonight then you promised to take me back to your room. Your cousins are freaking me out. Take me away!”

“Whatever you want John, come, let’s get fresh drinks and we’ll retire for the night.” They made themselves two tall glasses of something filled with fumes. Cautiously they threaded their way back through the crowd. Some of the cousins stepped away from John as if he were contagious and others reacted as if they’d just spotted a rare specimen of some kind, their stares blatant and intense. John briefly wondered where Greg and Mycroft were before deciding they were grownups and could fight their own battles for now. He’d survived; it was all up to Greg to do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried laughing when I envisioned Sherlock's family. I hope you enjoyed them because it's all going to start coming together.


	7. Passages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner went as John expected and now he and Sherlock have crept away for a little private time.

When they finally arrived at Sherlock’s rooms John locked the door then stuck a chair under the knob. He checked the closets and all the rooms, patted down the bed, and then made Sherlock check for surveillance devices, and forced him to confess the knowledge of another hidden door in the reading-room. John scattered a handful of jumping-jacks from Sherlock’s childhood in front of it since there was no way to lock it. After checking the windows John finally relaxed. Sherlock stood there with his arms crossed looking impatient, “Are you done John?”

“Now I am. I don’t want to be part of some weird cousin’s spank bank alright? Mycroft spies far too much for it to be something he learned on his own. Who knows who else does that in your family? We haven’t been in this room for hours and we didn’t check it beforehand. Did you check everywhere? Some of those cameras are tiny.” Sherlock fussed but John just sipped his drink and made Sherlock sweep the bedroom one more time, this time making Sherlock use his own crime scene techniques.

There was nothing in the locations favored by Mycroft but Sherlock did find a tiny camera hidden in the ornate carving of the bed’s headboard. Angrily Sherlock stomped on it and swept the room one more time without prompting. He found two more cameras, both of them ground furiously underfoot. One last pass garnered no further technology so Sherlock conceded that John had made a prudent decision to assume they were being watched.

“We’ll lock the bedroom door as well John, just in case someone gets by your clever trap.” Sherlock was both appreciative and dry when he made the comment. John just wedged another chair under the bedroom door.

“Have you ever stepped on a jumping jack? Clearly not or you wouldn’t be making that face right now. Trust me Sherlock, they’re hard to see in the dark, sharp as hell and no one in the world can step on one without losing their balance. If they’re wearing soft slippers or better yet, have come barefoot, we can expect a scream.” John finally felt safe enough to relax with his lover. They were in a battlefield and when at war you grabbed hold of any moment of safety there was and made the most of it. “You look incredibly gorgeous Sherlock. Your family is beautiful but you are the most gorgeous person here.”

Sherlock flushed and looked shy again. He wasn’t accustomed to being admired like this and as much as he liked it he still came over with a charming blush when John praised him. “I say again that you are the beautiful one John. You are everything vibrant and alive in the world, gold and silver, blues and creams, all of you is simple, direct and perfect. I can’t resist you John.”

John finally began to understand his appeal to Sherlock. Compared to the fractured mentality that seemed to rule Sherlock’s family the dullness John considered his least appealing attribute was an irresistible lure to Sherlock. The calm practical way John dealt with everything must seem almost magical to someone who came from Sherlock’s family. Sherlock’s family was scattered and undirected, there was nothing to direct or contain their outrageousness whereas John provided Sherlock both a focus and a filter for his thoughts. John finally began to understand what Sherlock meant when he called John his conductor of light.

Sherlock took John into his arms and kissed him softly, reverently. John felt all the wonder Sherlock felt as they slowly undressed each other. Growing up with a family as unstable and dysfunctional as Sherlock’s clearly was John could appreciate once again the loneliness his lover had endured for his strangeness, a strangeness he could not help. John loved Sherlock even more than ever as he began to understand the layers that made up the complicated person who held his heart so tightly.

Tonight John did what he had been waiting for. He tasted Sherlock everywhere, slowly caressing the long lean man until Sherlock was writhing and moaning helplessly. John was determined that Sherlock feel the love he had been ignorant of. The soldier wanted his lover to understand that John felt passion for Sherlock, desired him simply because he was who he was. The real world must have been such a shock for Sherlock after growing up around the constant madness that was his family. He had been ill-received by nearly everyone he’d met, falling into drugs as a last resort to deal with harshness of real life.

Now Sherlock had John. _John would be his rock, his foundation. John would lift Sherlock up and let him be himself with no condemnation. Sherlock was beautiful and rare, a treasure made only for John and John let Sherlock know. John had never been so sure of something in his life. He was made to love Sherlock; everything in him was there for Sherlock to flourish on_.

John was very new to loving a man and hadn’t quite crossed all their bridges yet. There was something he’d wanted to try so carefully John worked his way up and down Sherlock’s body, moving closer and closer to the object of his desires. Sherlock was moaning, his breathy gasps echoing in John’s ears like the sweetest music. When he finally took Sherlock in hand the man arched his back and cried out John’s name. John could barely get his fingers wrapped all the way around Sherlock but he gamely began to stroke before lowering his head.

John immediately loved the taste of his lover. Sherlock’s girth was too much to take in very far so John settled for small sucking kisses and the application of his tongue which Sherlock named _wicked_. John was impressed all over again that he could fit Sherlock inside himself and wondered for the first time if Sherlock found John less than impressive in that department. Sherlock was gasping his name at this point and suddenly hauled John upward, “John I need you inside me right now! Stop teasing and fuck me, please!”

John grinned roguishly at how Sherlock’s manners deserted him when he was aroused and made Sherlock stay on his back. A bottle of lube was waiting for the doctor and with care he prepared Sherlock to receive him. Sherlock looked flushed and disoriented. He was panting very hard and groaned loudly as John began to push himself inside. Almost immediately those long shuddery gasps that turned John on so much began. Long arms and legs suddenly pulled John tight to the taller man, “I love you so much John. This feels incredible, simply incredible. I’m not going to last!” With that warning John unleashed himself to catch up with Sherlock who was struggling to hold himself back. Finally John sank his teeth into Sherlock’s neck, his hips snapping forward hard as both men almost shouted their release to the world.

It was lovely and relaxed. Sherlock didn’t want to let John go so even though he wanted to wash up John cuddled in Sherlock’s arms. The tall thin man twined himself around John and held him close. “John? I have a concern. Am I…do I make you uncomfortable when we make love? I only ask because I worry I’m causing you a lot of discomfort.”

John twisted around so he could look at Sherlock. The man did look very uncomfortable, “Discomfort Sherlock?” There was a bite mark in the middle of Sherlock’s neck. It was fading but John kissed it anyway and smiled.

“I’m rather larger than you everywhere. You’re a small man and I am not. I’m very worried about hurting you. Do I? I can’t help but wonder because of how delicious you make me feel, but you always hurt when I top even if you don’t say anything. I can still see the pain and it worries me.” Sherlock indeed sounded worried, _very_ worried and John couldn’t help but smile.

“I make you feel _delicious_? I like that.” Sherlock caressed John’s back tenderly and waited for the rest of John’s answer, “Yeah I suppose it is uncomfortable but only for a minute. I’m sure I’ll become accustomed to it over time; we’re only just getting to know one another. The pain fades quickly enough and it’s a small price to pay for how incredible everything feels after that. I was actually concerned about the same thing but in the opposite direction.”

“You feel you aren’t enough for me? Don’t be silly John, how is that even a conceivable thought? You could have no penis at all and I would find being with you thrilling. As it happens you have an incredibly perfect one, at least, it seems perfect to me. Everything about you is perfectly proportioned, do you realize this? It’s incredible. Your penis falls exactly in the center average of the range for men, it’s rather amazing. My entire body is off-scale all over the place but I try not to let it distress me.”

“You mean I’m perfectly average but for some reason that’s a turn on for you?” Sherlock kissed John’s cheek. John was feeling happy and warm now that Sherlock was opening up even more to him.

“When you say it like that you sound like it’s not _incredible_ when _it is!_ Do you know how many people are perfectly proportioned? Almost no one! Everyone is slightly off, either through a slight misalignment of eyes or breasts or slightly longer arms or legs, like me. You on the other hand are absolutely perfect. It’s divine.” Sherlock kissed John on the head, “I find you incredibly attractive John. Not just your personality or your mind, both of which have their own beauties but your body as well. Never feel inadequate, you most certainly are not. I am unseemly. I once asked Mummy if she had put me on the rack when I was an infant to stretch me out. She didn’t take kindly to the question.”

John tried not to laugh, really he did. He could practically hear the young Sherlock asking his mother about it. John shifted himself so he was facing Sherlock. “Sherlock do YOU realize how attractive I find you? I like how big you are. I really like the shape of you; it’s turned me on for years. I love the way you look but not as much as I love the way you move which is nowhere near as much as I love the way you think. I’m the one who’s amazed that you’re even interested in someone like me. I have nothing to offer someone like you, you have everything already.”

Sherlock looked confused, “How do I have everything? Money? It’s not mine. There’s a portion set aside for me through the trust but I don’t have control of it until Mycroft releases it and so far he’s shown no signs of doing so. Friends? _You_ are my only friend John; this is known to all who know me even slightly. I am not on good terms with any of my blood, indeed tonight has been one of the most cordial evenings I have ever spent with them and I have you to thank for that. I am a genius but what happiness has it brought me? I love The Work but it does not love me back and nearly everyone I work with except you and Lestrade hates me. Molly is the next closest person after Mrs. Hudson in my affections and I only remain friendly with her because she is my access to the morgue and she is not entirely incapable. I’m not a good man, not by any definition and I am undone by my weaknesses at every turn. You are my only strength John; it’s because of you that I can even try to be better than I was. I admire you. You have endure great privation and yet you have achieved so much and you’ve done all of it by yourself with no family to offer you an easier way. I’ve been given everything and achieved nothing except a lifetime of indulging myself to no other purpose than to sate my curiosity. Is that laudable? You have laid your life on the line without hesitation more times than you can even recall, most of those were for The Work to save me and I have sacrificed myself for you a _single_ time. What is right about that? How can you call your life nothing when it is everything already? Each minute you spend with me is a gift John; I don’t need anything back except perhaps a promise of continuation.”

That was a lot to take in and John was incredibly moved by Sherlock’s admission. He thought carefully of what Sherlock was asking and realized that the man wanted exactly the same thing John did, “I’ll stay with you forever if you’d let me Sherlock, that’s not even a question. I would have stayed with you for the rest of my life even if our lives hadn’t changed a bit. If what I am is what you want then I am bloody thrilled. You couldn’t have made me happier Sherlock. I don’t know how I got so lucky but that’s how I feel.”

Sherlock was smiling hugely and John beamed back at him. Everything felt exactly right and John thought about something he wanted to know. This moment would be the perfect time to ask, everything was just right. He opened his mouth to speak when Sherlock took his hand, “John Watson, would you…” whatever Sherlock was going to say was cut off by the shout they heard from the reading-room.

John and Sherlock bolted out of the bed and were in their robes in a heartbeat. John carefully removed the chair from beneath the door knob and Sherlock silently unlocked it. Pulling the door open they crept through the short hallway to the reading room where a loud crash was now heard. Stealth forgotten both men ran the rest of the way.

It was Aloysius. He was sprawled on the floor clutching his foot. He glared at Sherlock when the room light came on, “Aloysius what the devil are you doing creeping into my chambers in the dark of the night?” Sherlock sounded savage.

“I was trying to get back to _my_ room. Mirabella is roaming the hallways. I was counting panels so I must have missed one. I don’t have a light and it’s been a long time since I used the back ways.” Sherlock seemed to find this reason acceptable because he helped his cousin up.

“Which one is Mirabella?” asked John. Sherlock was checking Aloysius’ foot. There was a spot of red on the bottom of his sock. “Sherlock get my kit.”

John made Aloysius sit on the sofa. The tall pale man seemed nervous but John just stripped his sock off and carefully examined the small puncture he saw there. Sherlock handed John the kit they always traveled with. The bleeding was already stopping but John cleaned it carefully, cautioned Aloysius to get his tetanus shot updated and put a small plaster over it to keep it sterile. John put the man’s sock back on and his slipper as well. Sherlock helped him stand and finally answered John, “You may have met her earlier. I believe she called you a Brownie. At least, it sounds like something she would say. Very red hair? Rather large woman?”

John nodded. Aloysius seemed daunted by the prospect of running into her in the dark evening hallways. John just shook his head impatiently and left the rooms after finding his own slippers. It didn’t take him long before he came across the woman who was peering behind paintings and looking into vases in the dimness. “Mirabella, it’s time to retire for the evening.”

“Brownie! Where are the rest of your people? I must speak with your king!” Mirabella swept right over to John and loomed over him. She was mildly terrifying or would be to anyone who hadn’t live with Sherlock who loomed whenever he got in a strop. John wasn’t fussed by Mirabella. Her careful appearance from earlier was disheveled, her hair a bit wild and her clothing dusty. She must have been checking under tables as well.

“They sleep at night and don’t appreciate being disturbed! Can you imagine how grumpy it must make the king if he’s kept up all night by people walking all over the place?” John scolded her gently. The large woman stepped back a bit as if in shock.

Twisting her hands together Mirabella looked chagrined. “I had not thought of that. _Oh Brownie!_ Give the king my apologies! I will retire immediately! I promise to stay in my rooms and be very quiet until morning.” She zipped her lips shut with her fingers and tiptoed away. John shook his head and went back to Sherlock’s room. Aloysius was standing there stiffly, looking very uncomfortable.

“I sent her to bed. She’s promised to stay there till morning.” Both Sherlock and Aloysius stared at John as if he’d just said he’d removed his own arm and sewn it back on. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Mirabella is rather violent when she doesn’t get her way. She can hit quite hard when she feels provoked or opposed. What did you tell her to make her go to sleep? She has never once listened to anyone.” Sherlock sounded softly shocked and pleased at the same time.

“She still thinks I’m a Brownie so I told her the Brownie king slept at night. She wants to talk to him so she promised to be quiet.” Clearly just going along with Mirabella had not occurred to anyone.

Aloysius stepped forward and reluctantly extended his hand to John. “You have been twice kind to me when I have not been kind to you even once. I am sorry for my rudeness earlier Dr. Watson. I thank you now for you goodness and I bid you a good evening. Cousin.” the tall man dipped his head politely at Sherlock and then John before he simply left.

Sherlock was standing there smiling proudly at John who raised his eyebrows, “What was all that about?”

“John you have just impressed two members of the Holmes family simply by being yourself! Aloysius has never apologized to anyone that I can recall and Mirabella has petrified generations of Holmes youth! John you are _amazing_!”

John just shook his head and yawned, “Can I continue being amazing tomorrow? I need to sleep sometime. Brownies sleep at night, haven’t you heard?” Sherlock locked the door and even replaced the chair and reset the jumping-jacks. He then took John straight back to bed after a thorough wash and made the doctor as comfortable as possible before snuggling close to him. John yawned hugely once more, “I love you Sherlock. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I love you too John. Goodnight my Captain.” Sherlock had John cradled to him and John had never been so comfortable or felt so cherished. Sherlock kissed John’s closed eyelids and let him fall asleep to dream of Brownies in golden cages that drifted through the mansion amidst scores of mad-eyes. This had only been the first day and there were six more to get through.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brownies actually work at night. That was a tiny fib John told so he could get some sleep. I hope Mirabella doesn't get upset if she finds out.


	8. Family Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well it's the first full day at Holmes Manor, what is in store for our doctor today?

At breakfast the next morning John was once more stared at by the entire _Clan Holmes_ with the startling exception of Aloysius and Mirabella, both of them nodded stiffly to him, and went about their meals in silence while everyone else indulged in the outright examination of John and Greg. Their every move was tracked and commented on, and John’s jeans and jumper combo seemed to be something of an outrageous fashion statement. Greg was wearing one of his everyday suits which, even perpetually rumpled the way he was, was still apparently less shocking than cable-knit. Everyone else looked like they were ready for another long evening, and John stood out like a daisy in a bunch of long-stemmed roses. It made breakfast seem to last an eternity.

After the meal concluded Mummy stood and stared down the length of the table before almost shouting to everyone in attendance, “ _My_ family will be arriving after the noon meal. I expect _everyone_ for dinner at seven o’clock.” John was interested to see the malice bleed away and discomfort bloom on acres of bloodless faces. Greg looked confused from across the table as he witnessed the same reaction. Sherlock and Mycroft both shifted infinitesimally which to their lovers was a sign as dramatic as throwing their arms in the air. The announcement of Mummy’s Holmes’ kin arriving apparently wasn’t the best news. Mummy left the table and gradually everyone else left as well. John sipped his strong coffee and waited for Sherlock to finish playing with his food instead of eating.

Sherlock finally sat back. “The St. Claire family _loathe_ the Holmes family. Mummy’s marriage to my late father Sieger was supposed to heal the rift. Mycroft and I aren’t the best ambassadors for peace between warring nations. Well, unless they’re _actual_ warring nations in which case Mycroft is your go-to person, tensions should be at their peak tonight.”

John groaned. _As if the Holmes family itself wasn’t enough to deal with!_ “Okay what sort of people are we talking about?” Sherlock bit his lip and John groaned again, “Seriously? Does admission into your family involve a certain degree of madness? What does that say about me?”

“John, we can leave now if you want. In fact, maybe it’s best if we do leave immediately. It won’t take long to pack and we can be back in London before the end of the day. Come. I’ll say goodbye to Mummy now.” John stubbornly dug his heels in. _Mummy’s birthday was tomorrow and John wasn’t about to leave just as the second wave of enemy was about to crash onto their shore_ , “John?”

“No. We’re staying. There’s something going on here! We should find Greg and Mycroft. I think it’s time for some strategy talks.” Sherlock looked so proud all over again at John’s firm words.

“John you are so amazing! I knew you were a soldier but now… it’s incredible John, you are so incredible.” Sherlock’s eyes were shining and he was smiling crookedly at John. John grinned back at Sherlock who frankly looked fatuous right then. John soaked in the sight of it. “Come along my Captain, I believe I see Mycroft across the way.”

Sherlock led John around the small gathered groups of cousins who were whispering worriedly to one another. Mycroft looked grim and Greg was disgruntled again, “You two completely deserted me last night! You would not believe the questions I’ve been asked! This huge woman told me she met a Brownie, another one asked me if I knew how to walk through a door….what’s to explain about that! Then this crazy young girl told me her pet escaped its cage but could only tell me it was gold. She wouldn’t tell me what kind of pet it was but she’s still waiting for me to detect it. She thinks that’s what I do; just walk around, detecting stuff on command like I can _sense_ where things are!”

John began to laugh. Sherlock bit back a grin and Mycroft raised an elegant eyebrow, “Explain brother.”

Sherlock looked at John so John stifled his laughter and explained what had happened to him after dinner. Greg was laughing by the time John rescued himself from his delicate kidnapper and was covering his mouth to stifle the roar of laughter that threatened when John described the reaction to his emergence in front of the cousin who was apparently named Emerson, the words spoken to him by Mirabella and then about the cousin unhelpfully named Hayden. John held up his hands and everyone looked at them. Greg looked down, “Wow John. I thought my evening was weird. If you hadn’t been here I imagine it would have been just drinks and cold shoulders last night, thanks I suppose.”

“So what can we expect after lunch then?” John pinned Sherlock with a firm look and included Mycroft for good measure. The minor government official sighed softly as was his wont when he was troubled.

“The St. Claire family are comparatively physical where the Holmes’ are more cerebral. You may have noticed that few Holmes’ appreciate being touched but the St. Claires take great pleasure in invading everyone’s personal space. It’s difficult for the cousins to deal with.” John didn’t appreciate the sounds of that. _Delicate personalities like those of the Holmes family shouldn’t be provoked like that! They were already unstable_. “They’ll want to do something competitive. They always do and Mummy always lets them. They’ll drag in as many of us as they can, trample us underfoot and leave at the end of the week crowing with bloated egos.”

John nodded thoughtfully. Sherlock wanted to go for a walk after their little discussion so John asked Sherlock to tour him through the mansion after they made plans to meet with Greg and Mycroft after the other branch of the family arrived. Sherlock took some pleasure in explaining all the foibles of living in a large home such as this. “When we were young it was an adventure to find all the hidden and secret places built into the ancestral home. Mummy hated this place when she moved here with Papa; all the cousins mentioned it as we grew up. When Papa died and she assumed control of the family she elected to stay here in the Holmes family seat rather than go back to France with the rest of her family. Now the St. Claires only come for big occasions like her birthday or Michaelmas. It’s always wretched.”

“What kinds of activities do they ask for?” Sherlock listed a long series of wildly inappropriate activities for people like the Holmes’. Croquet was probably the only activity that seemed sort of alright but John could barely imagine the pasty-faced Holmes’ in the gardens in full daylight, “We played polo one week. All of us are decent riders but giving large mallets to two volatile groups was a very bad idea. At least this time we have a doctor in the house.” John laughed at the thought of everyone on horses and Sherlock hugged him tight.

It was already lunch time so John and Sherlock joined the cousins in the dining hall. All of them were milling around nervously before seating themselves. Mummy was not in attendance. Mirabella sidled up to John and put a small jar of honey beside his plate and a small can of rolled oats. “ _They’re for the King to help us against our enemies_.” she whispered loudly and sidled away. John looked at his gifts in puzzlement until Sherlock handed him his mobile. John read the entry on Brownies.

“Thanks Mirabella!” called John over his shoulder. She was nowhere in sight but they hear her whisper her welcome from somewhere in the crowd. Aloysius sat in his designated seat beside John.

“Dr. Watson. Is it true you are military?” he asked cautiously. John nodded. “May I inquire as to your rank?”

“I was a Captain in the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers. I was a RAMC doctor until I left and then I became a GP but now Sherlock and I work full time together.” Aloysius was nodding thoughtfully. “I’m a fully trained soldier, with field commendations as well as medals for bravery and other things.”

Sherlock leaned over and looked at his cousin seriously, “John is incredible. I’ve met some of his fellow veterans. Their stories about him are remarkable.” Conversation ceased as the meal was served, the wordless servants working flawlessly to dole out the simple meal. Everyone dragged it out for as long as possible as if delaying the end of the meal would put off the arrival of the St. Claire family. The last crumbs were being toyed with when the doormen began to stream toward the main exit.

The exodus was amazing. In a twinkling there wasn’t a Holmes to be seen except for Sherlock and Mycroft. An army of servants appeared and the remains of the meal vanished nearly as quickly. When the men stood Sherlock and Mycroft checked their lovers over, Mycroft going so far as to redo Greg’s tie quickly. Sherlock merely brushed a bit of lint off of John’s shoulder, “This jumper is one of my favorites.” It was the oatmeal jumper John had owned since he was a young man. It was warm and comfortable, if a tiny bit frayed at the cuffs. John picked up his honey and his oatmeal and stuck them in Sherlock’s suit pocket.

“Want to meet them right off or do you want to run away with everyone else?” he asked. Sherlock actually bit his lip and thought it over. “We’re going to meet them Sherlock. That was a trick question.” Sherlock looked crestfallen.

Greg barked out a laugh and just took Mycroft’s arm formally, “You toy with entire countries Mycroft. You can deal with a bunch of schoolyard bullies.” Mycroft was visibly steeling himself, even the stoic government official found it difficult to set aside a lifetime of built in reflex. _The enemy was at the gate_.

Mycroft and Greg went first, followed by John and Sherlock. Both Holmes’ were blank faced and completely non-reactive. John settled a friendly smile on his face and took his place beside his lover. Mycroft was standing beside Mummy who was dressed resplendently in another long green gown. She didn’t look around but kept her gaze on the front doors which were suddenly thrown dramatically open.

A large beefy man strode in. He sneered at the liveried servants and swept right up to Mummy, standing nearly nose to nose with her. Mummy didn’t flinch but merely said, “Luc.”

“Violet, so, another year has gone by. Happy Birthday, _dear_ sister.” the two siblings looked at one another and you could almost cut the tension with a knife. John was suddenly reminded of how Sherlock and Mycroft faced off, all cold looks and silent conversations. _This fight was decades in the making and John knew that the St. Claires were not Mummy’s friends. They were her enemies too._

A group of people now poured in as if on cue. They looked incredibly robust, with rosy cheeks and lightly tanned skin. John bit his lip and forced himself not to laugh. All they needed were letter jackets and the entire lot of them would fit into a classic nerd vs jock low budget movie. John then realized that was exactly the situation he was in. Team A: The Holmes – weedy, pasty, mildly-insane but otherwise completely brilliant and about as physically aggressive as a bowlful of cooked noodles. Team B: The St. Claires – a group of people that looked like a catalog spread for a sporting magazine, and probably looked forward to a good squall in the weather so they could enjoy a brisk walk in it. He heard Sherlock whisper under his breath, “Oh god, they’re bigger than ever!”

The receiving line formed and soon a parade of St. Claires began to move passed them. John kept his face as expressionless as Sherlock’s now, especially when he heard the introductions. Mummy Holmes actually sounded _proud_ when she gave their names, “Luc, may I present Mycroft’s partner, Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade of London New Scotland Yard, and Sherlock’s partner, Captain John Hamish Watson, lately of the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers, doctor and criminal consultant.” Luc was taken aback at both of them. Both John and Greg merely inclined their heads politely and said nothing.

“ _Partners?_ You of course mean _business associates?_ ” Luc sneered openly and gave both John and Greg a cold look. “Whatever they pay you, it mustn’t be very lucrative.” John inhaled slowly and calmly, breathing through his nose and letting his body remain relaxed. _This person was trying to score points against the Holmes family by attacking them!_

Greg looked straight into Luc’s eyes. Luc was obviously recalling Greg’s work title. This was a Detective Inspector that Luc had essentially accused of being a cheap male prostitute! Luc chose to ignore Greg now and moved on to John, snubbing Mycroft and Sherlock much like Mummy had snubbed them both. Interesting, must be a St. Claire technique.

“Violet said _‘lately’_. Does that mean you are no longer in service?” Luc’s entire demeanor screamed ‘ _quitter_ ’ as he looked down at John. Luc was taller than Sherlock and even taller than Mycroft. He was broad as well and those high cheek bones clearly were a genetic gift from that side of the family. The tilt of the eyes was the same but Luc’s eyes were the palest of blues, almost white. It gave him a slightly mad look.

“That’s correct.” said John who added nothing else. Luc looked at him consideringly.

“She said you are a doctor. Where do you practice?” Luc was trying to get John’s measure.

“I don’t practice medicine currently.” John had finished his last shift days before the trip. The last-minute case they’d worked was a celebration of their new freedom, squeezed in at the last minute as a treat for both of them. He gave Luc a friendly smile, appearing completely harmless and non-threatening. Luc seemed to like John’s unimpressive answers and smiled with even more malice than any of the Holmes’ had managed as a concentrated group. He stepped back and let the flow of his children with their spouses flow by as well as a bevy of cousins and other relatives.

John was the smallest man in the group. All of the St. Claire men were burly and looked like they came straight from the rugby field. John listened carefully to all their boastful talk as they shook his hands hard, squeezing them tight. By the time the entire group had been introduced John’s hands felt wrung out and sore. He smiled pleasantly the entire time.

The St. Claires stormed Holmes manor. They trouped in laughing boisterously. The Holmes cousins were waiting in the ballroom, all of them looking stiff and uncomfortable. John felt bad for all of them suddenly, thinking of his Sherlock and how he had needed to stand with his family time and again against thugs like these. All of them had gotten dressed up even more, most of them sporting rather extreme looking new accessories. Suddenly John understood the dramatic evening-wear favored by the Holmes. It was their armor, their defense against the invasion of the overlarge in-laws now bearing down on them.

Hugs were diverted when ornate neck pieces prevented any kind of safe approach without seriously risking an eye. More than one Holmes wore ornate collars or had their hair styled outrageously into points or swirls, reminding John of a Dr. Seuss book. Ladies dropped into elaborate bows and gentlemen into extravagant courtliness, all as attempts to avoid the body crushing hugs and casual arms thrown over shoulders as the St. Claires reacquainted themselves with their in-law’s. John frowned at the invasion.

They tried to hug Sherlock but John stepped smoothly in and offered his much wrung hand instead. Not one of them got close. Greg was similarly protecting Mycroft. John endured a second round of crushing handshakes before the family decided they’d greeted everyone thoroughly enough. As soon as the official greetings were completed both armies retired to their respective suites to wait each other out. John and Sherlock waited in their rooms for Greg and Mycroft.

“This is how you grew up? What happens now?” Mycroft arrived with Greg watching behind him as if attackers were just waiting for a chance to get at the auburn haired man. He locked the door behind him. “I feel like we just met a whole group of soccer hooligans!”

Mycroft had clearly heard the question and answered it, “Now Uncle Luc will challenge Mummy to a competition in such a way that she must accept, our family will be pitted humiliatingly against his and it all ends in tears until Christmas when it all happens again. It’s simply dreadful. Most of the cousins cannot deal with a stressful situation and the St. Claires made every situation stressful.” A plan was forming in John’s head.

“Who chooses the game?” he asked.

Sherlock answered this time, “Luc challenges but Mummy chooses, usually after he’s pressured her into something his family is good at. It’s evil how much control over her he has. They’re fraternal twins so it’s his birthday too but they won’t mention it. He’s younger by only ten minutes and he feels it’s unfair that Mummy gets to inherit everything, especially since she’ll be leaving it all to Mycroft and Sherlock. He wanted his ancestral home back but Mummy will inherit that too. She was going to live there after Mycroft took over the Holmes seat.”

John already didn’t like the St. Claires. The Holmes’ hadn’t been particularly nice to him but if he looked at them though his _Sherlock-centric_ glasses then _John discovered he felt very protective of the poor things. They were completely frightened right now_. There was a knock at the door. A tall blond man peered nervously inside, “Captain Watson. Elspeth needs you. Please?”

Something in the way the tall man fidgeted had John’s nerves snapping. He didn’t like the young woman who had tried to steal him but there was _something_ on the young man’s face. “You are?”

“I’m Byron. Elspeth is my sister. Please Sir. Hurry?” he said hurry. John stood right up and followed the young man. His long legs moved quickly so John really had to step up his pace. Byron stopped at the end of the hallway and looked uncomfortable, “Sir? Look? Please?”

There was a doorway and three huge boys were pressed against it and giggling together in a very unhealthy way. John could hear a panicked voice singing, “Not today, go away, not today, go away, not today, go away.” The boys had Elspeth trapped inside and were trying to break in. John stormed over. “Elspeth, it is John. I’ve been asked to fetch you! Come along right now!”

The three boys jumped aside and all of them looked terrifically guilty. John didn’t say a word but glared furiously at all of them, “Pet? Pretty pet? Come fetch me away pet!” The door cracked open and John saw Elspeth’s weepy face. He held out his hand and she grasped it gratefully. Byron was peeking nervously around the corner.

John let Elspeth cling to him and stared the young boys. All of them were taller than John but still shuffled around nervously. John realized he’d interrupted just before things got ugly. The boys probably wanted nothing more than to steal a kiss or two from the strangely beautiful girl but with three of them, well; it could have gotten out of hand very fast. “ _Go_. If I find you’ve been trying anything like this again while you are here I will appear unannounced at some point when you _think_ you are safe and I will surgically remove anything that troubles me. I am a doctor. I can do that. _Leave_.” They ran and John brought Elspeth and Byron back to his rooms.

Elspeth threw herself into Mycroft’s arms when they arrived and wrapped her arms tight around her tall cousin, “The pet is a _good_ pet. A _loyal_ pet! A _brave_ pet.” she murmured inanely into Mycroft’s jacket. He smoothed his hand over her hair until she calmed. Sherlock came over and he and John exchanged looks. Mycroft was coldly angry. Elspeth softly sang, “Byron will take me to Grand’Mere. She will keep us safe.”

Byron took her hand as they left and John wondered if they were twins as well. They looked very alike. John was outraged, “Mycroft! Those thugs were half a step away from breaking into her room and raping her! She kept saying ‘ _not today_ ’ which leads me to think they’ve molested her before or tried to! What kind of people are these?”

“Rather violent ones John, though no one had tried this that I know of. I suspect you happened across a lot of raging hormones that no one else seems to have noticed yet. Thank you, John. Elspeth and Byron are orphans. They stay with various family members and are very sensitive children.”

“Why did Byron come to me instead of Mummy or one of the others?” John was mystified. _He didn’t think he’d even met Byron before. John tried to go through the confusing list in his head of all the many cousins he’d met but it was all a blur. Perhaps he had shaken Byron’s hand at one point?_

Sherlock took his hand proudly, “No one here can stand up to the St. Claires but everyone knows _you_ were in the army. You’re brave by default and they know this too. I’m afraid whether you realize it or not you’ve become the _Holmes Champion_.”

“Great! I can’t wait to tell my mum. She’ll be ever so pleased.” snarked John. _How exactly did one champion an entire family and why would he want to? They were all geniuses, couldn’t they figure something out?_ John exhaled noisily and pinched his nose between his eyes. “What about Greg?”

“Gregory is _The Law_. It’s actually terrifying to both sides.” Mycroft smiled with gentle pride at his partner. “So far everyone has nearly bitten off their own tongue trying to prevent themselves from confession all sorts of doings. Possibly most are legal, if hesitantly so, but they don’t know that. Gregory has been charmingly threatening. It’s been a delight.”

Greg and John looked at one another. They blinked. Then they laughed. This was going to be so much fun, “Right! Let’s go over our assets then. I think we have some planning to do.” For the rest of the afternoon John and Greg interrogated Sherlock and Mycroft about the families, about their home and about everything they could think of that would give them an advantage, no matter how slight against the St. Claires. It all boiled down to _The Challenge_. “So Mummy gets to pick but it’s nearly always something Luc thinks he can win at, correct?”

“Yes John. It’s always dreadful. Don’t try to picture it please.” John just sat back and tapped his lips thoughtfully. It would need to be something that would level the playing field and provide both sides an equitable chance. He looked at his lover with a small smile.

“Sherlock, what was the thing you asked me to do before we found out we were coming here?” Sherlock lit right up and John grinned at him.

“ _Really_ John? Here? Without the guns though correct? How shall you manage?” Sherlock jumped right up and began pacing back and forth, thinking furiously about how to adapt his request to their current situation. “ _Chalk bags_ , brightly colored. The rules wouldn’t even need to change except for the strike zone. Oh John! This could work! We’d actually have the home field advantage, as it were.”

“Sherlock, please explain yourself? What is John talking about and this better not be something best kept in the bedroom!” Mycroft sounded testy.

“I asked John to teach me about urban warfare and how to survive! We were playing with a group of other people in a zombie apocalypse survival group. John was to be my gunman. _We can play the game here Mycroft_! The rules are relatively simple. It involves more strategy than physical effort. Physical contact is at a minimum. John is brilliant!” Greg started to laugh as Sherlock explained excitedly.

“You want to play Zombie Apocalypse with two of the oldest, richest, poshest families around? How would we even get her to pick this game?” Mycroft stood up and looked down at Greg.

“I will go speak to Mummy. Luc must be back in his rooms by now. She will be getting ready for dinner. I’ll lay out our plan. She will accept.” Mycroft leaned over and kissed Greg’s cheek gently. “I’ll meet you in our rooms in a while Gregory.”

The three of them sat down and began taking notes. They made a list of things they’d need to even play the game and eventually had it ready for Mycroft to deal with. It would have to wait until dinner when _The Challenge_ would be posed. Tomorrow was Mummy’s birthday so there would be a dance in the evening as well. The game would take place the day after that giving all sides a slight chance at preparation, after they found out what Mummy chose to play.

Dinner was fraught with even more tension. They were divided into camps now. Holmes’s to Mummy’s right and St. Claires to Mummy’s left. John was still between Aloysius and Sherlock but across the table was Casper and Yves, Luc’s sons. Their wives were pale and beautiful, Elise and Selene. Both women stared darkly at Greg and John in between looking rather angrily at Mycroft and Sherlock in between. Aloysius leaned over and whispered almost inaudibly, “They wanted to marry Mycroft and Sherlock. The Holmes seat is very desirable but they had to settle for Casper and Yves. They’re sisters.”

So there were more layers to the rivalry for power. Luc had noticed the exchange, “Discussing anything of interest gentlemen?”

“Oh I was just telling Aloysius about my bad shoulder. I have a devil of a time with it. Hip too. _The war._ It’s damp today and they’re giving me a bit of a time.” John shifted his shoulder to show how stiff it was. _Sherlock looked concerned and Luc’s sharp eyes noticed how Sherlock barely kept himself from rubbing John’s shoulder the way he did when it was sore. This wasn’t the place for such intimacy_.

Luc went back to his conversation with Mummy, she was complaining. “Then these ridiculous people came to call on me and asked to hire the property for some game challenge they were filming, some….what were they called Mycroft?”

“ _Zombies_ Mummy.” said Mycroft who was looking glumly at his plate.

“Yes, _zombies_. I refused of course! Can you imagine? Using _my_ home to play some ridiculous game and filming it? I sent them away immediately. _Outrageous_.” Mummy stabbed her salad violently. “There is too much dignity in these stones to tolerate such antics. I say again, _outrageous_!”

“How is it played?” Luc stared at Mycroft who grudgingly spelled out the rules. Mycroft seemed reluctant and kept adding how foolish a game it was and how he didn’t know a single person who would stoop to playing such a childish yet somehow violent game. “Eating people’s brains? So the zombies like to kill people for their minds?”

Luc’s eyes were practically sparkling. He turned to his sister and John watched as he maneuvered her into agreeing to a game of Zombie Apocalypse. Mummy was horrified. She shook her head. She pressed her lips together and would not look at her brother. She ate her meal and tried to engage others in conversation but Luc kept pressing her until finally, just after dessert had been served she agreed. Luc was very satisfied. “In two days then Violet, as always you shall provide the accoutrements?”

“Luc! Oh very well. Under protest I will agree to this travesty! You must agree to restrain your kin and not destroy my home while they gallivant around! I will get Mycroft to contact someone who can help arrange it.” Mummy looked put out and Luc was gleeful. John ate his dinner in silence.

After the meal there was a gathering in the ballroom. Cousins once again grouped themselves in protective bunches as the St. Claires strolled around talking loudly with one another. John took Sherlock’s arm and once again they did their rounds. With every group they met Sherlock whispered something to one of them. After receiving discrete nods John and Sherlock would continue ambling on their way.

It was as tense as promised. After the initial mixing about everyone eventually gravitated to their personal safety zones and stayed there. John shook his head. This was going to be a slaughter unless they came up with some incredible planning! After an hour or so of stilted silence Sherlock quietly led John away for the night.

Back in their room John settled for simply locking their bedroom door and sticking a chair beneath the knob. Sherlock swept for bugs just to be cautious and found another one. Someone was coming in to re-trap their room! When they were as alone as they could get and as safe as they could manage John pulled Sherlock close and let the taller man relax slowly. They didn’t have long.

Sherlock was as tense as John had ever seen him. Each conversation he had with a relation, no matter which family was a source of dismay for Sherlock. Everyone had something nasty to say to him, he hadn’t been any better liked at home than he had been in the real world. This evening John had been treated to several veiled insults, mostly from the St. Claires but several of the Holmes were rude, but almost innocently so. They didn’t seem to understand the concept of discretion when making observations and John finally saw where Sherlock’s tendencies had grown. His entire family constantly observed and noted things but nearly all of them operated under different guidelines regarding the use of the information they gathered.

Sherlock was a detective by choice. He gathered his facts and laid them out neatly. He considered their empirical merit and carefully separated anything that could not be substantiated from what could be proven. John could see why a man such as Sherlock would feel the need to check his facts with such thoroughness. Every member of the Holmes had their own ideas about what was truth and what was mere delusion. What was very clear even to John was that Sherlock did not thrive amidst his family. He now seemed leaden and almost listless.

“Do you love me John?” he asked and John tightened his arms around his lover.

“I love you Sherlock.” He answered simply. Sherlock lay his head on top of John’s and sighed deeply. “We’ll get through all of this. It hasn’t been so bad. At least, it hasn’t come to blows yet.”

Sherlock laughed and John joined him as they thought of a pitched battle between the two groups. It was hard to imagine. “Our guests will be arriving soon. I want to change.” They got out of their dinner suits and into their regular clothes. John pulled on the black and white striped jumper Sherlock especially liked and Sherlock wore the aubergine shirt that John particularly enjoyed. Sherlock pulled John tight and kissed him hard. John held on tight and gave back as good as he got. Reluctantly they pulled apart and went out front.

There was a small group waiting outside in the hallway. John let them in. A few more came in by way of the not-really secret hallway. It didn’t take long and soon it was crowded. John stood up, “Thanks for coming. In two days we’ll be engaged in a strategy game against the St. Claire family. Tonight I’ve asked you all to come here so I can give you some pointers on how to prepare.”

“Why _you_?” someone asked but someone else hissed, “He’s a _soldier_! Shut up!” followed by, “The Brownie will help us!”

“Hello Mirabella, glad you could make it. Alright then, this is what is expected.” John went over the game rules. They seemed to understand. John followed with his necessary clothing advisory, “We’re going to need to be able to run a bit. No ball gowns, I’d think twice about suits and see if you’ve got anything good to go on your feet so you can move quickly. Also, you’re going to want to blend into the background a bit so dark colors or whatever you feel will help you not stand out visually. We’ll be using chalk bags so they won’t hurt if you get hit but the idea is to strike them someplace above the neck. A strike to the head eliminates them and that player will be required to wait in the ballroom. If their chalk-bag lands on your skin then you are required to switch sides and aid them.”

“Bared skin is vulnerable? We are required to switch sides if struck?” Someone in the crowd posed the question but everyone swung questioning eyes at John. They all seemed appalled at the concept.

“Well yes, that’s how it works. In the movies zombies can only be killed by destroying their heads. You get infected if you are directly exposed to their blood. We’re not using actual blood and the games require paint but in this case we’re using colored chalk. Mycroft’s assistant will be here the morning of the game to deliver everything we’ll need. We’ll restrict game play to the property and set a time limit.”

“Doctor John? Do we have a chance of winning? They are very big and very loud.” John once again tried to see who was asking but couldn’t.

“I think you have a better chance than when you played polo.” He answered. He hadn’t seen this group do anything except bicker, “They _are_ big but _you_ are _smart_. Think it through. This is _your_ family home. _You_ know it better than they do. So what if they’re big, that will make them easier targets. It’s not about who’s bigger or who is more athletic. It’s about who’s clever and I’d have to think that the Holmes’ are rather cleverer than most.”

With those final words of encouragement the meeting ended. The Holmes in attendance would hopefully explain what they’d learned adequately to whoever else needed to know. John sighed as they were finally left alone. “Not exactly what you expected is it John.”

“No kidding Sherlock. I don’t know what I was thinking when I said yes to coming here but planning pitched battle in the sacred Holmes seat wasn’t really in my head.” Right then John was really interested in only one thing, making Sherlock happy again. “Let’s get undressed beautiful, I want to see all of you.”

Sherlock flushed but smiled wickedly. John grinned back at him and then they were getting out of their clothes as fast as they could. Tumbling to the bed their caresses grew frantic and heated. “John, John I want you so much.”

“Good. I want you too. Come on sexy; show me what you can do.” Sherlock had John pinned onto the bed in a heartbeat, his mouth beginning to tease and torment John deliciously. Sherlock seemed to be memorizing John, going back time and again to places that made John sigh. When John was finally nearly out his mind with need Sherlock took him.

He was slow and loving. He prepared John gently; taking his time, and when he entered there wasn’t one twinge of pain, “Beautiful John! You are so perfect, so gorgeous and so very wonderful.” John could see that Sherlock was losing the fine edge of control he’d maintained until now. He wrapped his legs around Sherlock’s waist and begged the man to go as hard as he could.

Sherlock began slowly. He thrust himself as deeply as he could before dragging himself out, savoring each sensation. He built up speed slowly and John was completely undone by the progression. Smoothly Sherlock began to rock harder and faster, bracing his knees wide as he held himself over John, his hips driving rhythmically downward. John’s entire body shook with the force of Sherlock’s thrusts and both men were gasping loudly, their groans beginning to fill the air in rapturous harmony.

“That’s it Sherlock. _Fuck!_ Oh fuck is this good! Yes…..oh god…. _oh_ …..Sherlock!” John couldn’t stop himself. He called out encouragements and endearments in an endless litany. Sherlock mustered himself a bit more and began to ride John ferociously. John’s hips were leaving the mattress with Sherlock’s now and they were creeping up toward the headboard with each devastating thrust.

When John came he couldn’t control the volume or pitch of his voice. He groaned deeply, almost a match for Sherlock’s growling roar of completion as they locked together and pulsed out their release. Sherlock was arched back, holding himself up on his hands and John’s fingers were digging into the soft flesh at Sherlock’s hips. Sherlock slumped down on him suddenly but John enjoyed the press of his weight, “John, I want to fuck you forever.”

“Good. Good plan. I’m in.” panted John. He could feel Sherlock grin against his neck where the tall man had his face buried. John wanted nothing more than to be taken again and again until you couldn’t tell where John ended and Sherlock began. He’d never had a sexual experience like the ones he enjoyed with Sherlock. The level of pleasure John experienced was so far above anything he’d previously enjoyed he was beginning to realize he’d wasted his entire life having sex with other people when he should have turned the world upside down looking for Sherlock. Maybe he should have had a sexual identity crisis when he began to feel attracted to Sherlock but it felt so right John had not protested to himself even once and right now he felt like they were surrounded by magic.

Sherlock was kissing John’s face all over. “John, my beautiful John, I want to know…” there was a knock on their bedroom door. Their heads whipped around and both of them glared. Sherlock removed himself carefully from John and once again both men slipped on their robes before opening it. Their faces were still flushed and sweaty. Aloysius was there and his face was absolutely scarlet. _He’d obviously been there for their big and rather loud finish_. “I do beg your sincerest pardon. Mirabella is asking for John, well, _the Brownie_ , but she means John. She’s locked herself in the kitchens.”

This was a little frustrating but pulling on their pajamas quickly John and Sherlock tied their robes tight and went to deal with yet another problem. What a week this had been and it was only the end of the second day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So tomorrow is Mummy's birthday...I wonder what she wished for.


	9. Mummy's Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Mummy's big day! Hurrah there's a party going on.

The walk was incredibly awkward. Aloysius clearly was embarrassed to death and couldn’t look at either of them. “I do apologise again for my most unfortunately timed intrusion.” The tall pale man blushed scarlet all over again. _Sherlock looked smug and John smiled privately to himself and let his lover enjoy his cousin’s discomfort. After all, they hadn’t asked for an audience and now there was one more proof out in the universe that Sherlock was both desired and loved_.

By the time they arrived John could see that the Holmes’ had latched onto the idea of him being their savior with both hands. A small crowd of cousins had gathered near the locked kitchen door and all of them looked relieved when John showed up. “Mirabella, Doctor Watson has arrived.”

“Brownie? Is it you?” Mirabella sounded upset even muffled by the door the way she was. “Brownie, I need to speak with you.”

“Unlock the door Mirabella, I’m right here.” The cousins pulled away from the door to form a corridor John walked down, followed closely by Sherlock. “I’m outside the door. It’s okay to let me in.”

The click of the door was greeted with a sigh of relief from everyone present. Mirabella peeked through. “Brownie, I would speak to you _alone_.” John shook his head and she frowned, “Brownie?”

“Sherlock comes with me everywhere Mirabella, that’s how it works.” John wasn’t going to let himself be separated from Sherlock for any reason. They’d had enough separation for one lifetime and this place wasn’t good or safe for his lover. John would happily walk away from the lot of them if he didn’t have an important reason to remain.

Mirabella nodded in sudden understanding. “Of _course_ Brownie, I did not think once again, yes of course he must come, my apologies.” Mirabella stood back from the door and allowed John to walk past her with Sherlock. She shut the door firmly behind them. “ _The Challenge_ , will the King help us with _The Challenge_?”

John looked around. There were small jars of honey and little bowls of oatmeal laid out on every surface. She had clearly been working for some time. John sighed. “I’m not a Brownie Mirabella. I’m a regular person, a soldier. I can’t contact the Brownie King and ask him for help.”

Mirabella looked devastated and John was surprised to see her reach out a plump hand to pat him consolingly on the back. “ _Oh Brownie!_ Were you wounded in the war? Did the iron that touched you prevent you from returning to your people? _You poor thing!_ ” John found himself crushed in a whale-bone rich hug as the heavily corseted Mirabella tried her best to squeeze him in two. She smelled of lavender.

“I’m really not a Brownie Mirabella.” insisted John. She let him go and examined him curiously. Her voluminous gown swirled around and threatened to engulf John. He’d never felt so small as the large woman bent down a bit to examine him with a sorrowful face.

“Yet you live with Sherlock. You care for him. Care for his home. Make him food?” John nodded hesitantly. Mirabella looked him over carefully once again and pointed at his head, “Your hair is bright. You used to walk with a cane, the mark is on your hand still and when you are tired you limp. You would leave Sherlock if he did not respect what you did for him? You do what you do for love, not payment, yes?”

John nodded hesitantly again and Mirabella looked even more confused, “Lots of people have bright hair. I’m not the only person in the world to have a cane. I barely use it anymore. Regular people do all those things as well Mirabella.”

“Brownie, these are _all_ the marks of your people. Perhaps you do not remember being a Brownie. Perhaps I awaken sad memories. I’m sorry Brownie, you dear, _dear_ thing. I will not ask for your help.” She looked very upset and sat at the kitchen counter atop a tall stool, her long dress billowing around her. “I will never get to speak to the Brownie king.”

“Mirabella, I don’t know what to say. If I _was_ Brownie and I’m not saying I was then I don’t remember anything about it,” this did not comfort the woman one bit and she seemed to be on the verge of tears, “I do want to help though, can I?”

“ _Not-Brownie_ , how can you help us now?” John bit back a smile at his new name. Mirabella looked forlorn and filled with hopelessness.

“I may not be a Brownie but I really was a soldier and you really are a Holmes. Stand up Mirabella. In two days we go to war. Watch the enemy tomorrow. Examine them for weaknesses. Remember what you observe and tomorrow night after the dance we’ll all meet again in our rooms.” Mirabella stood tall and haughty. John nodded firmly and she nodded back before sweeping out of the kitchen, pulling the cousins along after her like a train. Sherlock was looking down at John with shining eyes, “What?”

“John have I told you how amazing you are? Every single day you give me new reason to love you even more.” Sherlock stepped close to John and kissed his cheek tenderly.

“That wasn’t amazing. I just broke some poor old lady’s heart by shattering her delusions.” Sherlock just kissed John tenderly again.

“No. You gave her hope and allowed her to understand in a way that made sense to her. Maybe Mirabella is entirely insane but you still treated her with dignity and respect, you didn’t laugh at what she believed in and you’re still helping the family even though they’ve behaved deplorably toward you.”  
John kissed Sherlock back now. "Well, I’m doing this for _you_ and not for them. I want to make a good impression with your mum and so far I haven’t done so well. Maybe _The Challenge_ will be a turning point.” Sherlock took John’s arm and led him back to their rooms. They checked everything over just to be sure and found nothing. John reset his traps, wedged appropriate chairs under door knobs and took his lover to bed.

Breakfast the next morning was fascinating. Everyone came by to wish Mummy a Happy Birthday while Luc glared. The St. Claires were not enjoying themselves this morning. Mirabella had clearly issued some orders because Greg and John were entirely ignored now. The Holmes’ were almost friendly with the St. Claires and it was making the burly relatives a little nervous. They were being _examined_.

Dozens of wild eyes followed the St. Claire relatives everywhere they went. Each movement was observed intently and even the biggest of the visitors found it disconcerting. John grinned to himself. He lived with Sherlock who had a stare so fierce it drove people away. John knew exactly how the St. Claire’s felt now that they were the ones under the microscope. Greg was smirking too. He didn’t know about last night’s event with Mirabella but Mycroft had Greg under surveillance twenty-four hours a day. He was used to it and recognized what was going on easily.

Aloysius wasn’t beside John for breakfast. He was sitting much further down the table with Elspeth tucked safely between himself and Byron. Instead Emerson sat beside John. “I apologize for assuming you could walk through walls. I’m afraid I forgot to take my special pills that day. I’d forgotten about the passages.” The man seemed very embarrassed, both for his mistake and his need to admit to medication.

“That’s alright Emerson. I’m a doctor so I understand. You remembered them today though?” Emerson nodded stiffly and produced a small bottle of pills which he presented to John. John read the prescription. It indicated that food was required so John filled a plate and set in front of the tall pale man. Emerson sighed deeply and sounded so much like a reluctant Sherlock that John felt himself soften even more. “Eat at least half, alright?”

“May I have tea as well John?” John got up and got a cup of tea for Emerson and one for Sherlock from the large buffet that waited for everyone to stroll in on their own time. “Thank you John.” Both men spoke at once and John just smiled and sat down to his own breakfast.

The rest of the day was one of amusement for John and Sherlock both. Mummy was in and out of the crowd as different people demanded her time. There was a large table set in the ballroom and as the day went by elaborately wrapped presents appeared until a small mountain was waiting for Mummy. John swore at himself, “I didn’t get your mum anything.”

“I have a present prepared for her John. Both of our names are on it.” Sherlock patted John’s hand. “I wouldn’t expect you to provide one for her. You hadn’t even met her. I’m afraid my family hasn’t made a very good impression. I apologize, John.”

“No one can help their family Sherlock. Look, all we need to do is get through the next few days without serious injury or major trauma and we can call this a win, okay?” Meeting Sherlock’s kin had been a revelation for John. Every single one of Sherlock’s eccentricities was entirely explainable. Even Mycroft’s extreme diplomacy had to have been necessary simply to function within this idiosyncratic group.

John got trapped by Luc when Sherlock went to the bathroom. Mr. St. Claire had clearly been waiting for his chance because he materialized the second Sherlock was out of eye-shot. “Mr. Watson, I thought we’d get to know one another.”

“It’s _Doctor_ Watson. Certainly, what would you like to know?” John smiled pleasantly at his lover’s uncle who smiled a bit greasily at him.

“How long have you _been with_ my nephew?” _Ah. One of those kinds of conversations and one John hadn’t even had with Mummy yet_.

“Just going on five years now more or less,” John kept smiling. Luc hadn’t specified exactly _how_ John had been with Sherlock. “It’s been amazing.”

Luc frowned, “How can it be more or less? Either it’s been five years or it hasn’t.”

John shrugged his stiff shoulder deprecatingly, “Well he was dead for two of them. That made it a bit awkward.” Luc clearly didn’t care to address that part of his nephew’s scandalous past.

“You live off of him? You aren’t in the army anymore and you said you don’t practice medicine either.” Luc clearly had ideas about how a real man should keep himself in the world and no prior knowledge of John.

“I get an army pension and I earn a bit here and there doing things.” Things like cases where he and Sherlock were now extremely well paid but that’s not what Luc had been asking about. John kept his smile to himself as he thought of all the clinics he used to work for and how nearly all of them protested heavily against his cessation of practice, “It’s enough to get by on.”

Luc was clearly pleased with John’s less than stellar explanation of himself. “So you remain with my nephew for _convenience_.” His look told John exactly how he thought John earned his keep. It was a little repellant to have to witness the calculating look in Luc’s eye as if he was wondering what it would cost to spend an evening with John, commoner or not. “ _How_ convenient is it?”

“It’s really handy having him around. He makes life interesting.” John was completely fine with Luc thinking ill of him but he wasn’t going to allow Luc to bad-mouth his Sherlock. “He’s a genius and a master of his profession.”

“ _Profession?_ You mean that silly detective game he plays? That’s not a profession, that’s a _hobby_. My daughters-in-law have shown me that _Science of Deduction_ page. No one has commented on it practically at all. He can’t be very successful.” Luc sounded scathing and gleeful. He relished what he perceived as his nephew’s failings.

Point in fact _The Science of Deduction_ site was pure information. The sorts of people that visited it were not the kind to leave comments. They took the information that Sherlock freely provided and used it. Luc had obviously not seen John’s blog which was where all their internet activity occurred. “He’s successful enough Mr. St. Claire.”

“I’ve heard that Sherlock actually lives in a run-down flat. _A flat!_ Can this be true?” _It took everything in John not to bristle at the faint slur toward 221 B Baker Street. That address was the center of their universe, where their lives happened, where their love lived and where Mrs. Hudson baked for them nearly every day_. Mycroft had a large townhouse in London as well as several other homes in different cities across Europe so John assumed no other Holmes had done the inconceivable and rented a flat.

“We live in a flat yes, but it’s not run-down.” _It was ancient but adored. They nursed the entire building along like a much loved elderly relative. Sherlock had invented all sorts of fixes for Mrs. Hudson’s problems over the years and was currently engaged in a battle against mold. Once he figured out a solution Sherlock planned on presenting Mrs. Hudson with the formula as a gift. She’d be rich_.

Sherlock was finally back and he approached them with trepidation. His uncle smirked down at his nephew, “Just getting to know your little _friend_ Sherlock.” The look Luc gave John was insultingly calculating again and John could see that Luc had been about to make an offer of some kind. Instead Luc deliberately clapped John firmly on his scarred shoulder and walked away.

“John, are you alright?” As soon as Luc was far enough John hissed out a pained breath. His shoulder was extremely pained. He hadn’t been lying when he said it was stiff from the damp. Luc had noted which shoulder had troubled John and had patted John hard enough to be a hairs-breath away from being a strike. Sherlock scowled at his uncle’s retreating back. John rolled his shoulder to relieve the tension.

“Yeah, it’s fine Sherlock. He was just trying to see how much of a _bit of rough_ I really am. I think I made a good impression. He practically had his wallet out.” Sherlock examined John’s face carefully before a tentative smile broke out.

“What did you tell him John?” Sherlock’s eyes were twinkling. He knew John had done something unexpectedly clever.

“The truth, you know I’m a terrible liar.” John really was an awful liar. His body language gave him away every single time. It had taken ages of coaching from Sherlock for John to learn how to go undercover with his partner in any effective sort of way. Generally Sherlock played John’s strength which was to tell the absolute truth and let people lie to themselves about what they heard. John grinned and recited all of Luc’s questions and John’s following answers.

“He thinks you’re no better than a _rent-boy_! That you stay with me for no more reason than you can’t afford to live anywhere else! John, why would you let him think so poorly of you?” John grinned at the dismay in Sherlock’s voice, “John?”

“All part of my disguise Sherlock, your favorite.” Suddenly Sherlock’s eyes were nearly black with desire. John knew it thrilled Sherlock when John surprised people. John wasn’t a threatening looking man. He just wasn’t. His height, the fluffy jumpers, his sweet smile, that friendly attitude, and helpful personality, there was nothing about him that could be viewed as dangerous.

 _Except that he was. Sherlock knew exactly how dangerous because Mycroft knew. Almost no one in the world was privy to John’s true military records and though they had never spoken of it John’s military history was filled with a number count not just of lives he had saved but ones he had taken. Both numbers were hefty. This hidden truth of John’s nature was something Sherlock had found useful on countless occasions and John had happily played along whenever required_. “Love, let’s go back to your room.”

Sherlock was more than amenable and as soon as they were out of the ballroom both men nearly ran back to Sherlock’s. “We don’t have long. Mummy’s dinner party starts at six.” It was half four now. They’d have just enough time to be together and still have time to get ready.

It was fast and rough. Sherlock and John couldn’t stop laughing and they explored each other feverishly. They got undressed somehow and tumbled to Sherlock’s bed. It was loud and quick, over almost before they began. Sherlock lay on his stomach and glowed with contentment as John flopped onto his back and panted.

John was completely happy. He reached over and took Sherlock’s limp arm and draped it over his chest. Sherlock smiled but his eyes were closed. John thought of _the thing_ he’d been thinking of for days. “Sherlock….” Like magic there was a tap at their front door. At least it wasn’t the bedroom door this time. John frowned but both he and Sherlock got up, pulled on their robes yet again and answered it. It was Mycroft and he was holding two garment bags. “Mummy has requested you wear these tonight.” The elegant man sniffed, “A shower would probably not go amiss either.”

Sherlock took the bags and closed the door on Mycroft’s face. After hanging them in the bedroom John took Sherlock to the bathroom where they showered carefully, shaving each other closely before returning to their bedroom to dress. John unzipped the bags. Inside were two incredibly well-made suits. Both of them were clearly bespoke and both of them obviously were complimentary. Each suit was the richest of blacks with silver details, even the buttons of the finest work. John’s suit had _Rod of Asclepiu_ engraved on each button. The bottom of each bag had a brand-new pair of patent leather shoes as well as black socks. When John slipped the shoes on, he felt like he’d worn them forever. Everything else fit as if John had gone to the tailors himself.

John and Sherlock looked incredible side by side. They looked like they were meant to be together. Sherlock tied John’s tie for him, knotting it carefully. Sherlock even combed John’s hair for him, using just a touch of gel to give John a bit of a rakish look. Sherlock himself smoldered. His dark hair shone and his curls were both wild and tamed at the same time. Exchanging one last long and lingering kiss John took Sherlock’s arm. It was time for dinner.

The dining hall was packed. Once more the camps were divided. John and Sherlock took their places beside Mycroft and Greg. Both men were also wearing complimentary suits and Greg looked incredibly sharp in the dark Holmes colors. His silver hair was especially striking and seeing the DI sitting next to Mycroft John realized they were a very handsome and well matched couple. There was no time to exchange compliments or questions though. Mummy was making her appearance and everyone stood as she entered the hall.

Her gown was black accented with a startling shade of green, clearly her favorite color. This dress was heavy brocade, silver threads picking out different details. Luc appeared right after her, his suit in a matching shade to his twin. This was the only concession the man made to their shared birthday. Sherlock and Mycroft went directly to their mother and at the same time kissed each of her cheeks before escorting her to her seat. John and Greg bowed to her and she graciously inclined her head before allowing everyone to be seated.

The meal was almost silent as each family member watched the others. The St. Claires were more nervous than ever as the eclectically dressed Holmes cousins continued to observe each and every move they made. John repressed a smile at the St. Claire discomfort. The huge and boisterous family had done less and less to impress John. All day long he’d heard their whispered insults about their extended family. Their disparaging attitude left no room to accommodate anything but what they felt was normal and the Holmes family was not normal. The food was consumed almost unnoticed as they two families watched one another. As soon as the brief meal concluded everyone retired to the ballroom for the most painful part of the day, _the dance_.

John was curious to see several long lines of Holmes form. Matching lines of St. Claires formed opposite the relations. Each Holmes was dressed in their extravagant best. There were silks and velvets, feathers and furs to go with the elaborate jewels and head-pieces. All the St. Claires were dressed in well-made if comparatively plain suits or gowns brightly colored in solid pastels. Mummy and Luc stood at the head of the crowd and John was lead to stand beside Greg as Mycroft and Sherlock took their places. A medium large group of musicians in black were tucked into a vast corner. Luc bowed to Mummy and she extended her hand. The second Luc took it the music began.

Mycroft and Sherlock stepped forward smoothly as did all the Holmes. John realized he and Greg were on the St. Claire side of the line and he didn’t like it. Sherlock took John’s hand in his and settled his hand at John’s waist. John had learned formal dances years ago and now regretted not practicing dance with Sherlock before this but it turned out to be completely unnecessary. Sherlock was an exquisite dancer and he led John smoothly from one step to another.

The entire room swirled and moved in a gigantic pattern. Clearly this was tradition; these people had done this dance dozens of times before. Everyone moved together in wondrous harmony, the entire ballroom moving in an elaborate configuration. Sherlock looked shyly pleased with John. “I’ve always had to dance with a cousin before, always one of the girls. This is better, much better.”

John grinned up at his love. “I’ve never been to a dance like this before.” Sherlock needed to concentrate for both of them for a moment.

“You’ll learn it soon enough if you come to another gathering here. We do this same dance at all the family events.” Sherlock looked nervous and John realized Sherlock had implied that John might not want to attend any further events.

“I’ll go wherever you are Sherlock. If you need to be with your family, I’ll be right by your side, you can count on it.” Sherlock’s smile was broad and sincere, that huge happy smile he only had for John. John loved how youthful Sherlock appeared. John looked up and said softly, “I love you Sherlock.”

“I love you too John.” The music got faster and soon they were weaving in and out of other pairs until everyone finished where they began. The music ended with a flourish and a deep bow from the dancers. “John we have to go back to the rooms to get the present.”

John nodded and followed Sherlock back to his rooms. Sherlock got John to wait in the sitting room while he fetched it. A minute later John was surprised when Sherlock returned and got on one knee in front of John, “John, I know I’ve asked a lot from you time and again. I’ve been a difficult and trying man but somehow you still seem to be able to find it in your amazing heart to love me. John, I’ve wanted to ask you a particular question for a very long time.” John was breathing faster. He couldn’t believe this was going on but sure enough Sherlock picked up John’s left hand. “John Hamish Watson, I would bind myself to you in any way you name so I ask most humbly if you would honor me and my family by accepting my hand in marriage.”

Sherlock extended his other hand. A small opened box displayed two silver rings, heavy and ornate. John stared at them, speechless. Sherlock leaned down and kissed John’s fingers before looking up with a beseeching expression on his face. John’s mind had completely stopped functioning. They’d barely begun dating. John hadn’t even gotten Mummy to speak directly to him.

Sherlock wanted to marry him.

Sherlock Holmes had just asked John to marry him.

Sherlock Holmes had just proposed marriage to John Watson.

Sherlock Holmes was on bended knee in front of John Hamish Watson, rings in hand and was waiting for an answer.

John stared at the rings.

He stared _really_ hard.

The rings.

Wedding rings.

To Sherlock.

Sherlock Holmes.

John blinked as his brain switched back on, “Oh god yes!” Sherlock swayed a bit and inhaled raggedly. _How long had John made him wait? John wasn’t sure. His brain still felt fuzzy and he was glad he was sitting down because he certainly couldn’t stand._

Sherlock extracted one of the rings and held it up for John to see. Inside it said _Sherlock_ and the tall dark man pushed it slowly onto John’s finger. John picked up the other ring. Inside it said, _John_ so John pushed it onto Sherlock’s finger. Sherlock picked up John’s hand and kissed it ardently, “John. John you’ve made me absolutely the happiest of men. I love you John. I’ve never once come close to loving anyone the way I love you and I know I will never love anyone but you. I’ve wanted to make you mine for so long, wanted to be yours. Thank you John.”

“Thank me? You’re giving me _you_ Sherlock. I’m the one who’s thankful. I wanted to ask you too, I’ve already tried more than once but we keep getting interrupted. Sherlock, I love you so much. I want to marry you more than anything in the world! This is amazing! Fantastic! Incredible!” _John wasn’t sure he was still sitting. He felt floaty and euphoric_.

Sherlock grinned, “I hope Mummy likes what we got for her.” He held John’s hand so their rings were side by side, “She’s always wanted a doctor in the family.”

“Sherlock, your present was our engagement? _Right_ , you did say both our names were on it.” Sherlock nodded and John couldn’t help laughing. “She doesn’t exactly like me Sherlock.”

“Let’s go tell her anyway.” Sherlock pulled John up as soon as he stood. Before they left Sherlock took John tightly in his arms and bent John back for a long deep kiss. “I’m so astoundingly happy right now John. Somehow simply saying I love you doesn’t seem to be enough.”

Mummy was sitting in a vast chair that was a hair away from being a throne. Everyone was on the floor dancing back and forth or mingling next to the refreshment tables. Sherlock leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Mummy I have some news. John and I are now engaged.” Sherlock extended their be-ringed hands.

Mummy’s hands flew to her cheeks and her eyes filled with tears, “ _Finally!_ Oh Sherlock. I thought I was going to have to propose for you!” Mummy then astounded John by getting right up and hugging him warmly, “Welcome to our family John. You have impressed me so much. I know it has difficult being here with so many strange people but you needed to see them at their worst so you could understand what you’d need to deal with if you stayed with my baby.”

John rocked back on his heels. _That clever old woman! She had been testing John and probably Greg!_ She smiled at him and John could see her vast intelligence hidden behind the artful petulance. “Yes I was awful. I’m sorry John. I do know all about you of course, I’m a big fan of your blog and I’ve been ever so happy since you and Sherlock became friends. I’d hoped for years that my son would pull himself together enough to just ask you to marry him finally! He’s loved you for so long John. I knew it from the first moment he mentioned you. I’m a very happy old lady right now.”

“Mummy you are _awful_! I thought you hated John!” Sherlock protested but he was also smiling proudly. Mummy rolled her eyes and gave a meaningful look to the engraved buttons on John’s clothes. The silver _Rod of Asclepiu_ , the icon of medicine, the clue to Mummy’s hopes which both men had completely missed.

“Baby boy! If you ever came to visit your old mum I might have been able to get to know John in a little less horrifying way. This is your own fault little one. You should have realized everyone would use my birthday as an excuse to get an eyeful! I had to see if John could deal with all of them before I started to seriously pressure you!” Mummy held John and Sherlock’s hands happily. John was in a bit of shock.

Greg and Mycroft approached a little diffidently. Mummy dropped John and Sherlock’s hands and turned to face her eldest child, “Mummy, we have some news.” Mummy smiled and everyone looked at Greg’s hand. A simple silver band was now on his left hand. Mummy’s hands flew to her cheeks a second time! “Mummy….”

“Mycroft! Gregory! Oh my _dears_ this is simply the best birthday I’ve _ever_ had!” Mummy crushed Greg in a surprise hug, the astonishment on the DI’s face making John grin. Everyone at the dance had noticed the unusual level of affection and the crowds were beginning to gather, “My _darling_ boys. You have made me so very happy. You have brought me two handsome and talented men to call my sons, I am so very pleased.”

Mummy turned to the crowds, keeping hold of Greg’s hand and reaching for John’s. Calling for attention she waited until the music stopped and everyone was facing them, “I have a marvelous announcement. Tonight my sons have given me the most miraculous of gifts. Tonight I present to you my sons-to-be, _Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade_ and _Doctor John Watson_.”

Nearly everyone applauded, the Holmes’ much more enthusiastically than the St. Claires who looked a little revolted. Luc stormed up, his eyes snapping angrily. “Violet! Have you finally entirely lost your mind? What are you thinking? You can’t let them marry _men_! It’s _unnatural_! It’s _disgusting_! Not only are they male but one of them is a _whore_ and both of them are low-class gold-diggers!”

Mummy drew herself tall and actually took a step towards her twin so menacing Luc stepped back in surprise before he rallied his anger once more. “I do not care what gender interests my sons. Unlike _you_ I love my children exactly as they are. Gregory and John are fine, decent and admirable men and your earlier musings to purchase time with John were stomach-turning! Gregory has risen in the ranks of NSY like a meteor and he’s done it all on his own, he constantly educates himself in his free time and has become one of the most indispensable members of his division! John has been courted by all the most prestigious medical practices in London but has turned them down in favor of working with Sherlock. His military accolades are numerous and all for bravery and honor! Sherlock and John are the most in-demand criminal investigation team in the country! _Even the Queen relies on them!_ You married your sons to the two most grasping and shallow women on the continent because they were beautiful and well-connected. Now you have lost your fortunes to their insatiable greed! You will not get your hands on my son’s legacy. You will not be allowed to sell the St. Claire home without my permission and you will _never_ get that permission without a fight. My youngest will inherit it after me as Mycroft will inherit the Holmes seat. There is nothing you can do Luc, except be quiet before you humiliate yourself some more.”

An astonished silence gripped the room. Not one person moved or made a sound. Everything the family had heard had shocked them, from the announcement of the dual engagements all the way to Luc’s real reason for coming to England. Luc wasn’t going down gracefully, “Sherlock is marrying a _whore!_ This Watson character told me he lives off of Sherlock, that he’s not even employed! How do you think he keeps your son interested? Of course Sherlock will want to marry the first person who asks him. How can you allow it?”

Sherlock was furious, “Uncle, you will never refer to John in such a manner ever again! He is not and never has been for sale! John and I have been best friends for _years_. Our relationship only recently took a turn and I asked _him_ to marry _me!_ I’m grateful he accepted. John has taken care of me for all this time Uncle. He has stood by me through every kind of problem you can think of, laid his life on the line endlessly to save me and he’s done it all for a love he never mentioned. John doesn’t want anything from me except to be with me. He doesn’t need money or titles to be happy. Even if Mummy disapproved entirely John and I would still get married. It’s not up to her and it is most certainly not up to _you!_ ”

The entire family had divided. The Holmes’ drew up to Mummy’s side of the hall and the St. Claires lined up against Luc’s side. Both glared at the other. Mirabella looked ferocious. Casper and Yves stood stiffly beside their wives who had their gazes locked onto Mycroft and Sherlock. Both women were clearly enraged about the engagements, had they fostered some weird sort of hope that one day they’d still manage to wed the Holmes brothers? Casper and Yves clearly were thinking that the answer to that was “Yes” and they burned with angry humiliation.

“Shut up you travesty! Violet, when you married that freakish Sieger all those years ago the family had such hopes of you. Instead you fell right into their madness and reproduced it twice over! Look at them! Two unnatural monsters! They look like they’re dead already! This whole family looks like walking corpses! _I should have followed my instincts and ended your brats when they were children!_ ”

Now the silence was shocked. _What had Luc just confessed to in front of the entire family? That not only did Luc think ill of his nephews but that he’d thought of killing them when they were innocent youth?_ Even Luc’s family seemed horrified and Violet grew even taller and more threatening. “Tomorrow is _The Challenge_. I am going to add a prize. If your family wins you can have the deed to St. Claire to sell as you wish. If my children’s family wins you and whoever else lives there must quit the home and live elsewhere as soon as Sherlock and John get married. I will pay your debts as well in that case, since you asked so very nicely. Those are the terms or you can simply depart now and I will leave you with nothing.”

“You have no authority to do this!” hissed Luc savagely but Mummy simply laughed.

“I have _all_ the authority and you, as always, have nothing! By your own hand have you lost everything you were given! My sons have risen far and _neither_ of them used their family connections to do so. You will accept the terms of the challenge or you and everyone who came with you can leave this very night! _The Challenge_ begins at ten tomorrow morning. Do you accept _Brother_?” Mummy was clearly restraining herself. She was magnificently furious, her eyes flashing and her lips pressed firmly together.

John was doing everything he could to restrain himself. The hate-soaked words that spilled from Luc’s bigoted lips ripped at John’s self-control. He didn’t care what Luc thought of him but the man had threatened Sherlock _. He’d called Sherlock horrible things in front of everyone. This man was right in front of John and everything in the soldier wanted to bring his enemy to his knees_. John gritted his teeth and clenched his fists tight. He breathed through his nose and kept his burning eyes fixed on Luc’s face. _One single move was all it would take and John would be there to collect the blood he was owed_.

“I accept.” The hall emptied silently, each army retiring to their rooms. Luc stood wordlessly in front of his sister, the enmity between them palpable. When the crowd had dispersed Luc turned on his heel and stalked away. Mummy turned to Sherlock and hugged him tight, pulling Mycroft close to her as well. She held onto her sons and John realized she was weeping silently. “He wanted to _kill_ you! My children! My precious children! I had no idea he was so bitter, so dark of thought! I love Casper and Yves, never once have I thought poorly of them though they have been so rude to you both. I love you Sherlock, just as you are my little treasure. Mycroft, you’ve always been such a joy to me, I love you my angel. You are both perfectly marvelous people, there has never been anything wrong with either of you no matter what Luc and his atrocious family may have led you to believe!”

Mummy let her sons go and looked at John and Greg who were now standing awkwardly beside the other. Both of them were still furious, Greg’s face a mirror of John’s. Mummy embraced them both and kissed their cheeks, “I give you my blessing on your upcoming unions to my sons. I ask that you watch over them, keep them as safe as they will allow and to love them without reservation. They need it. Here they did not get the love they needed through no fault of their own. This family does tend to madness of the mind and it keeps them from understanding their hearts but they do have them. You’ve seen this John, the Holmes family is worthy of you I hope. You are a good man, as you are as well Gregory. I hope you still see fit to agree to this union.”

Mummy was worried that Greg or John might bolt? Now? John squeezed Mummy back, “Good luck getting rid of me after this. I’ve been pining after Sherlock for ages and _now_ I might have a home in France. Imagine all the customers I could snag with a place like that!” Mummy bubbled out a teary laugh at John’s self-deprecating joke. “May I escort you back to our rooms? I do believe we have a meeting waiting.”

Mummy was surprised, “What?”

Sherlock came over and took her arm while Mycroft took the other, “John has been organizing the cousins. We’ve already had one meeting and tonight we’re having another. He’s going to help us win _The Challenge_.”

“How in the world did he get them to agree to work together?” Mummy sounded astonished as they led her away.

“He’s _John_.” Sherlock said, “He is a conductor of light and he will make us shine. Come along Mummy, it’s time to rally the troops.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Brains vs Brawn showdown is imminent! The Holmes have the home field advantage but the St. Claire family is angry and ruthless. Will Luc honor the rules and play a fair game or should John be planning for an all out offensive attack?


	10. The Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mummy and Luc have laid out their grievances and all will be decided during The Challenge.

Their rooms were packed. The five of them barely squeezed in but no one suggested the group try to meet somewhere else. “Hi everyone!” said John and there were calls of ‘ _Hello John’_ or ‘ _Captain Watson_ ’ even a couple of ‘ _Doctors_ ’ and of course ‘ _Hello Not-Brownie_ ’. John smiled at all the concerned faces around him while Mummy was given a seat on the sofa. Sherlock stood behind John as the shorter man began to speak, “I’d like to start…..”

Hayden pushed to the front, another remarkably ornate dress signifying the potential femaleness of the figure but Hayden’s voice wasn’t any more of a clue than before. He/she hissed, “How can we trust him! Look at his hands! _Small hands!_ ”

John looked sternly at Hayden, “I’ve been informed that I am perfectly proportioned. That means for my height my hands are exactly the right size to be _completely_ trustworthy. I’ve been allowed to be a doctor and everything.” Hayden peered at John and suddenly the entire room was looking him over and calculating his measurements. John helpfully held his hands up. The cousins discussed it amongst themselves before agreeing that yes, John _was_ perfectly proportioned and though not properly Holmes-sized that he was indeed completely trustworthy as far as his hands were concerned. Hayden looked mollified and allowed him/herself to be drawn back further into the crowd.

“Alright then, who wants to begin?” John looked at everyone but they all just looked confused and uncertain. John smiled warmly at them, “When you watched the St. Claire family today did you see anything interesting that might help us?”

_Okay, that was a question they understood_. Emerson raised his hand, “They never go anywhere in a group smaller than a pair.”

“Good, that’s useful, anyone else?” John looked at the cousins and noticed two that wanted to speak but seemed nervous about raising their hands. John looked right at them, “You have something of note?”

“The ladies seem several points smarter than the men. We ran several groups through a series of questions and all the women scored very high but the men did not. The men tend to take orders easily and rarely stray from their appointed tasks but the women tend to be more manipulative and less active.” John smiled again. _Of course the cousins had run tests on the St. Claire family, he wasn’t surprised. This was all useful information so far_.

Another cousin raised their hand and John looked at them, “If we factor out the few relatives that are unable to participate in the games due to age or other infirmity the disparate number of player ratio is still 1:1.5 in their favor. They have more people than we do. There is no way to change this, even if we somehow compelled our elderly into participating.”

_John wasn’t about to force a bunch of oldsters into racing around trying to win a physical challenge! His plan was to see everyone who was in any way delicate safely off with all the servants during the duration of the game, Mummy included. John didn’t trust Luc to not do something low and if he tried anything John wanted the man to need to wade through acres of bodies before he got near her. Sherlock would remain firmly by John’s side if John had to handcuff him there_. “We’ll get everyone who can’t play into a safe area. Let’s hear the rest of the reconnaissance before we worry about the number of players.”

A cousin in the back raised their hand and asked, “If we win and you get St. Claire home can we come visit?” John began to laugh. His life had changed so much in the last two weeks. “We’ve never been.”

“If for some strange reason Sherlock and I decide to move to France you can most certainly come for a visit. I think however our plans are to stay in London where our work is.” The cousins looked almost disappointed. “We can come back for another visit sometime too; we don’t have to wait until Christmas.”

Sherlock poked John in the back to make him stop and John almost giggled. The cousins looked brighter and were talking amongst themselves about the information they’d gathered. Mycroft looked over everyone, “We don’t require meretricious information, only data that is of tactical use to the game. I understand many of you put a lot of effort into gathering the facts but sadly we will not necessarily need all of it.”

“We don’t want to corrupt the data set Mycroft, which is why we are trying to decide to tell the Captain.” An older man looked sternly at Mycroft and John realized he was looking at one of the saner Holmes’ he’d met so far. “Give us a minute, cousins.”

John leaned back without thinking and Sherlock bore him up, resting his big head on top of John’s. They slouched together, managing to hold each other up while relaxing at the same time. John sighed contentedly and waited. When the cousins finished their discussion John stood back up again and Sherlock put his hand on John’s shoulder. “We require a further explanation of the rules before we can offer you more information.”

John went over the rules carefully, explaining the substitution of chalk bags for paint-ball guns as necessary to save Mummy’s home. The servants were already packing away anything irreplaceable and covering all the paintings and statuary with sheeting. The game area was restricted to the ballroom level so the attics and the basements were off limits. If you had to use stairs to get somewhere it was considered an out of bounds area. That still left a huge amount of space to play in. They paid especial attention to their vulnerabilities and seemed to grow more confident the better they understood the game.

Aloysius finally raised his hand, “We have knowledge of the passages which I doubt the St. Claires do. Only a few Holmes’ know them all, like myself. We could remain on the game floor yet move about in relative safety.” _This was what John had been hoping for; this was their biggest asset so far._

“That’s brilliant – we can use the passages to set up various traps. If we plan carefully we can have the entire game done in almost no time and come out winners.” This comment from John heartened the Holmes cousins greatly. Now they fell to planning with John in great seriousness.

It was a long time before John realized someone had arranged for beverages and he drank down his water eagerly. Everything was coming together neatly but he realized it really should. He was the hinge-pin around which all the Holmes gathered, John was neutral territory for them, their common meeting ground. He had managed to harness their vast if broken brilliance and filtered it into something grand and filled with purpose. In no time they had a plan in place, a back-up plan and two contingency plans. John was impressed with what could be accomplished when you packed enough geniuses into a single room.

“Alright it’s late. You need to rest yourselves well and make sure you are dressed appropriately for the game. Eat breakfast! You’re going to need the energy. Okay? Good, we’ll see everyone in the morning.” The crowd gave their goodbyes and everyone left until only Greg, Mycroft and Mummy remained.

Mycroft was busy on his phone with Anthea arranging the last of the game supplies. Greg made him sit down and got Mycroft a drink which he held until Mycroft caved and drank it down. Sherlock had John’s laptop out and was busily making notes. John gave him a drink too and kissed Sherlock’s temple as the man typed furiously. John offered Mummy a drink but she demurred and asked to be escorted back to her rooms so John and Greg took her.

“John, my dear boy, if I had not seen it myself I never would have believed that _the Holmes family_ could work together on anything! Even getting them to eat a meal is a challenge yet look at them, scurrying about, working things through together and _enjoying_ themselves. They’re having the best time of their lives and it’s all thanks to you. Gregory! You _charming_ man, how you dote on my Mycroft. I was delighted to see that you don’t put up with his ridiculous notions about food and drinks! John you must take Sherlock more firmly in hand! My son is too thin. He’s being silly too.” Mummy was holding their hands and looking very pleased. “I need you to see something my dears, come here.”

Mummy allowed them into her rooms and took both of them down a small hallway. Pushing open a door she revealed a small room filled with monitors and equipment. Elspeth and Byron were there, listening to heavy music and both working furiously away at whatever they were doing. “What in the world is this!” exclaimed John in surprise.

“This is how I monitor Holmes manor John, as well as other things. My team, Elspeth and Byron whom you have already met, keep me apprised of various pieces of information as well as overlook the security of my home. Both of them are rather brilliant with technology if nothing else, rather like the rest of their family they have both found what they like and are sticking with it. Congratulations on finding all the tracers in your room John. Please be assured that they were at no time active and merely there to be found to see if my son has lost his wits or not which he clearly has so thank you John for keeping him alive.” Mummy turned to Greg, “Tell Mycroft I’m _very_ disappointed in him. He hasn’t checked at all whereas John makes Sherlock sweep at least twice a day. Do work on that Gregory dear, the world is a very dangerous and tricky place.”

Elspeth turned to John and gave him a cheeky and completely aware wink, the vacant look in her eye was gone and for a dizzying second it was like looking into a tiny female Sherlock’s face, “Hello _pet_. Thank you for saving me from the St. Claires. I was planting another camera when they caught me.”

Byron stood up and shook John’s hand hard, “I’m afraid I’m not a fighter of any sort. I’ve got very weak lungs and I can’t exert myself much so I haven’t been much use to my sister. We do this for Grand’Mere though and it’s been so interesting. Elspeth and I haven’t been bored even once since we started.” John started to laugh. _Of course the Holmes’ were more than they seemed_.

Mummy came up to both of them, “Please don’t be upset with us! We are a very peculiar family and it takes a certain type of person to deal with us. Sherlock and Mycroft have not had it easy because of this. I can’t tell you how happy it made me to discover that both of my sons have somehow managed to find partners who understand them as clearly you both do. Gregory, I know Mycroft can be very manipulative as well as very protective. He means well. He loves you, clearly he does or he would not have asked you to marry him. John, I know Sherlock can be contrary as well as rather careless but again, he means well too. He’s a free spirit, and _much_ wilder than the usual Holmes. They usually go mad by then but somehow Sherlock has found a way to harness the storm they all seem to have in their heads.”

Greg piped up, “That’s all John. He settled Sherlock down the day they met. He’d been using that Mind Palace technique of his but really, it was John. Don’t worry, we’ve figured them out. I think we’ll be good. Myc at least is learning to discuss things with me instead of just deciding for both of us and he’s been really good lately about everything else.”

“I know Gregory. I know. John is a blessing to all of us. Now, both of you should run along and tuck my boys in for the night. Tomorrow is a big day. Anthea will be here in a couple of hours with her team to set up the games and everything else John suggested is being put into motion. Goodnight, my dears.” They kissed Mummy on the cheek. John went over and kissed Elspeth too and gave Byron a friendly pat on the back before he and Greg went back to the rooms.

Mycroft had clearly been waiting for Greg. As soon as they walked in Mycroft went over to his DI and kissed Greg with extreme tenderness. John hadn’t ever seen them be intimate with one another but Mycroft was sweet and gentle with his lover, leading Greg away on his arm and looking softly at his fiancé with shining eyes. John went to Sherlock who was just finishing up and took him to bed.

“Sherlock, I love you. I need you.” Suddenly John was overwhelmed with a need to connect with Sherlock. Tomorrow they were going to war and even though it was a game John knew the stakes were high. He needed to ground himself, surround himself in the love that was waiting for him.

It was gorgeous and intimate. John made love to Sherlock gently, wringing cries and sobs from his lover as John brought Sherlock almost to the peak countless times before he finally claimed him. Sherlock was flushed and covered in sweat, completely incapable of speech. John was proud as he carefully watched Sherlock’s rise. He wanted so much to keep Sherlock wrapped in pleasure forever, to dedicate his body to Sherlock so that his detective would always feel the tremendous love John had for him and him alone.

Sherlock hung onto John as tightly as he could as his body was wracked with pleasured shudders, “John, my perfect and glorious John!” When it was over and they were cleaned up and cuddling under the blankets Sherlock held John tightly again, “I love you John. You make me a better person.”

The next morning began early. Mummy had arranged for everyone to receive breakfast in their rooms so they didn’t need to see their foes until it was time to begin. John hadn’t planned to be active during their visit so they just had their regular clothing with them. John pulled on his old jeans and a fresh jumper while Sherlock slipped into a tight pair of pants and even tighter shirt. They checked each other over, “Feels like a normal day, doesn’t it?” teased John.

“Oddly enough, yes.” Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and they held one another closely for a few minutes, “I love you so much John. I can’t thank you enough for everything you do for me. I’m glad you said yes.”

“Which time?” teased John again.

“When you said you’d take the room at Baker Street, when you agreed to let me come back, when you said you’d pretend to be my boyfriend, when you actually became my boyfriend and for saying yes when I asked you to marry me, for saying yes to helping my family. For saying yes each and every time I’ve needed to hear that one word from you. Thank you John.” John pinched Sherlock’s bum. “John! I’m trying to be romantic!”

“You did a fantastic job.” John pinched Sherlock’s bum again and it made the tall man laugh, “Come on beautiful, the war is about to begin.” Sherlock took John’s arm and led him back to the ballroom.

It was astounding. The two families had shown up and once again had divided themselves on either side of the ballroom. The St. Claire family were dressed in running shoes and cheerily colored exercise clothes. If there had been a gym nearby the entire lot of them would have looked entirely at home. Their tanned skin and wind-kissed faces all looked healthy and robust. They were doing stretches and other warm-up exercises, all of them in a very cheery and energetic mood.

Then there was the Holmes family. Clearly they had latched onto the idea of protective gear. At a glance it looked like a ninja convention. All of them were covered from head to foot in layers of black clothing and John could see they all seemed to be holding fencing masks. Not an inch of bared skin was showing except for their heads. A second look revealed the truly terrifying presentation that now awaited John.

All of them had run with the idea that they were the zombies. Every single face was made up dramatically to look as corpse-like as possible. Their hair was free and ragged. Their faces were paler than ever and artfully painted to look bloody and rotting. Their wild eyes ranged over the St. Claire family feverishly and all of them looked madder than ever.

Greg approached. He and Mycroft were wearing matching black running pants and hoodies. Black trainers covered their feet and both men looked askance at John and Sherlock’s clothes. John raised an eyebrow, “What? This is what we wear on cases all the time. Sherlock can run really fast in those shoes, you’ve seen him Greg.” Sherlock looked ready to lounge at a club.

Sherlock looked down at John appraisingly, “Those are John’s lucky green trainers. He’s quick. The jumper is my favorite too, he wore it for me.” John had. It was his black and white striped one and perfect for today.

“Very well Brother, let’s begin.” There was a man dress all in bright green was waiting for the teams to assemble. He’d been brought in from London to monitor the competition. A large screen was set up and a small group of people also in green were working over a chart that was being hung on one large wall. It was a floor plan of the gaming area and all of it had been marked off in sections. Several rolling carts were filled with small rounded objects, two large collections of each. The chalk bags.

Luc had elected to play _The Challenge_. He strode up to the referee and stared balefully at John. John simply waited for the rules to be agreed upon. The referee came forward, “I’m Colin. We’ve got cameras linked to all the play areas. Zombies will be issued _red_ chalk. Survivors will be issued _yellow_ chalk. If a zombie receives a head-shot they must cease playing instantly and return to this location to wait for the end of the game. If a survivor is marked on exposed skin they are required to return here, don a black jersey and return to the game as a zombie. If a survivor receives a head shot they are removed from the game entirely and must also wait here. There is a clock running. The game play shall take two hours unless one team clearly wins before the clock runs out. At the end of the set time all players must return to this location for a head count since the team with the most remaining players shall be considered the winning team.”

“That gives the zombies more of an advantage!” protested Luc. John looked over at the St. Claires. They looked ready to dash at high speed, all of them fit and toned. All of them were comfortable looking in their exercise clothing, all bared arms and exposed legs. They had lots of bared skin, just perfect for a good chalking. Luc realized his team was at an even greater disadvantage and frowned. It was too late to do anything now; the game was going to begin shortly.

“Those are the standard rules sir. The only change is the substitution of chalk for paint, other than that this is how Zombie Apocalypse is played. All teams must now retire to their rally points, the team captains and their seconds remain.”

The referee held up a stop-watch. As soon as he clicked the timer both families drained away until only John and Sherlock were standing there with Luc and Casper. The monitors were shut off so none of them could see where their team-mates were going or where their targets were hiding. Sherlock and John were given four carts of red chalk-bags; Luc and Casper received four carts of yellow. “You now have fifteen minutes to get to your rally points, distribute your eggs. A chime will be heard signaling the beginning of the game. Good luck players.”

John and Sherlock left. They went immediately to the reading room where Elspeth had originally trapped John. There they handed out several small chalk bags to each of the people who quickly filed through. Some exited back out the door; others went through the secret passage to meet with others. It didn’t take long before all four carts were empty. Soon a metallic sounding chime rang through the rooms. The game was on.

John had it all mapped out in his head. It was just a matter of everyone remembering their roles. He checked the bag that hung at Sherlock’s hip. It was full. He checked the one at his own hip. Also full. John then pulled Sherlock in for a short but intense kiss. “I love you Sherlock. Let’s kick some ass.”

“Right behind you Captain,” purred Sherlock happily. With a grin both men went into the secret passage and closed the door firmly behind them. A series of small LED lights had been fixed to the interiors to give them faint light, just enough to get them from panel to panel. They could hear shouts already, people were being taken out. Adrenalin rushed through John and his senses suddenly seemed enhanced as he listened and watched intently.

He and Sherlock slipped out of the passage and into another reading-room. Listening carefully at the door they heard footsteps, people running. Waiting patiently John and Sherlock listened as footsteps quickly clipped by. Pulling open the doors they saw a woman and two men, their backs to the pair. John lobbed an egg and got the woman right in the back of the head. Sherlock managed to get one of the men as well just as John dipped back into his bag and threw a second egg, three players out. All of them stomped away furiously, angry at having been removed from play mere minutes into it.

John and Sherlock went back inside the passage. They heard shouts from a nearby room and came across Mirabella. A large St. Claire man was about to chalk her but Mirabella panicked and punched the man as hard as she could. The huge woman gasped when he crumbled in front of her. John laughed out loud when Mirabella took one of her chalk eggs and delicately sprinkled it on the unconscious man’s face. John gave her a thumbs up before returning to the passage with Sherlock.

“Four down.” he said to Sherlock.

“There were fifty two St. Claires waiting in the ballroom including my uncle. We have only thirty players on our team. Come along John. We have to finish our rounds.” Sherlock kissed John hard before following his soldier into battle. Room after room found the St. Claires hopelessly overwhelmed. They were big. They were fierce. They were fit. They should have been unstoppable.

The Holmes’ were completely insane. They had no care for themselves, threw themselves recklessly at their enemies and vanquished them one after another in total surprise. For the athletic St. Claires it must have been like going to a petting zoo and suddenly discovering that the cute and fluffy bunnies were no ordinary rabbits. For the Holmes’ it was retribution for years of humiliating loss at the hands of their in-laws. _It was a slaughter_.

So far John was witnessing the almost cathartic release of fear. Each and every Holmes present had been bullied or intimidated by a St. Claire at some point. Now all of them thirsted for vengeance. No one bothered to try and turn their cousins to their team. It was death or nothing. John and Sherlock used the passages to make it back to the ballroom. Sliding the door open a crack they peeked out. There were already over twenty St. Claires waiting, all of them with bright red heads. There were almost a dozen Holmes as well, all covered in numerous strikes until they looked like yellow figurines. More St. Claires were arriving, most of them female. Now their numbers were up to nearly thirty.

“They’re taking out the women first, to make sure they have even less leadership on the floor.” whispered John to Sherlock. John felt so proud of his new family. He and Sherlock retraced their steps and made it back to the room where they’d seen Mirabella. She was gone and so was her victim. John and Sherlock heard more shouts in the distance as the St. Claires ran in terror from the madness that chased them.

It wasn’t taking long. John and Sherlock checked back time and again. Soon there were forty-eight St. Claires and twenty-four Holmes’ glaring at one another in the ballroom. That meant John, Sherlock, Greg and Mycroft plus two other. They scanned the St. Claires. Luc, Yves, Casper and Elise were not accounted for. John and Sherlock slipped away once more, now hunting for the last of the St. Claires.

The electric lights were too dim to see far so it shouldn’t have surprised John to be ambushed but he was. Suddenly he was yanked out of the passage and into a dark room. He felt a something hot slice across his cheek and realized he was being attacked. “ _SHERLOCK_ ” he shouted in warning. It was too late. Sherlock was being held by Yves and Casper while Luc attacked John with an incredibly long knife.

John wasn’t going to put up with that. Ignoring the blood that was beginning to flow down his face he attacked Luc squarely. The older man was surprised at the strength of John’s tackle but he was a very large man and pushed John back. Elise stepped out of the shadows and she also had a knife. John couldn’t move away from both of them quickly enough and Sherlock screamed as her knife sank deep into John’s chest like he was made of butter.

John fell where he stood. He couldn’t move. Yves and Casper were shouting, “You were supposed to _cut_ him lightly as a warning you stupid cunt! Now you’ve _killed_ him! We aren’t going to jail for you fucking pieces of shit! Casper, quick, get help!” Sherlock was on his knees and he couldn’t seem to stop shouting John’s name hysterically. John lay there and felt the warmth begin to leach out of him. Mycroft and Greg appeared. Both of them pulled out their mobiles and soon Luc and Elise were being taken away while Mycroft knelt beside Sherlock to try and stem the bleeding. “Don’t move the knife.” croaked John. He was still alive. Elise had missed everything but they could not move the knife or he would bleed out.

“John! My beautiful John! Don’t die on me John! Please! I love you.” John looked over at Sherlock. He was in shock and the pain hadn’t yet set in. Sherlock was weeping and barely able to speak, “We haven’t gotten married yet. You promised me. You _promised_!”

John’s eyes locked onto Sherlock’s tear filled ones. How had he never noticed how thick Sherlock’s lashes were? “I did. I _will_. I’m gonna marry you. Can’t stop me.” John felt the heat inside him begin to spread. It wasn’t going to be much longer. He felt Sherlock take his hand. Sherlock's long slim fingers seemed so hot. _Was John cold? He felt cold. It was getting dark too, the light was fading away and it was hard to see now. He tried to speak but that was hard too, like his lips didn’t really want to move. He slurred out the words anyway_. “Love you Sherlock. More than anything. Will forev…..” The light went out.

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The whole family gathered. Row after row of Holmes dressed in their finest filled the vast hall to over-flowing. Another section was filled with somberly dressed people. John’s mother was in the front row and she was crying onto the shoulder of a sandy haired woman. Harry, John’s only sister.

At the front of the Holmes clan sat Mummy. Mycroft was on one side of her and Greg was on the other. They were holding her hands as she sat stiffly, all of them dressed in remorseless black and silver Holmes colors. A large plinth was standing off to the side and on it sat an ornate golden urn. Mummy’s eyes rested on it sadly. “He would have liked this.” she said softly.

“Yes Mummy, he would have liked this very much.” Mycroft put his arm around his mother’s shoulder and hugged her briefly. “It’s time Mummy.”

Everyone shifted and arranged themselves before silence fell on the hall. Sherlock came out also dressed all in black and silver. His hair was neatly styled and his clothes were crisp and perfect. Standing by the table Sherlock rested his hand on the urn gently before moving away and standing to face everyone. As one the entire hall stood.

Music started. It was soft and gentle. Everyone turned and watched as a short man walked down the aisle in a matching black suit. It was John. Sherlock was grinning hugely as his lover took his place by his side. Turning together John and Sherlock faced the minister that had been waiting. Tears were on the face of everyone in attendance as John and Sherlock exchanged their vows in front of both their families, promising to love and cherish one another for the length of their days. When Sherlock pushed the heavy gold wedding ring onto John’s finger he glanced at his father’s urn and wished he could have been there to see his youngest finally get married.

They turned to face everyone as the minister declared them wed. The entire hall rang with loud and sincere cheers as everyone rushed to hug the newlyweds. It was marvelous. When Mummy came up with John’s mother both women were nearly sobbing with happiness and clung to their sons hard before switching and hugging their new sons just as hard. Both women got along amazingly well and had a firm friendship already forming. “John you gave us _such_ a scare. I’m so happy everything worked out so well!”

After being stabbed John had passed out on the floor and missed the dramatic excitement that had followed. Sherlock went crazy thinking John had died but Mycroft had called in an emergency team from a nearby military installation and had John flown via helicopter to their base where the knife was carefully removed and John neatly stitched up. There had been some internal bleeding but John’s admonition to not remove the knife had saved his life and the internal wounds had been kept to a minimum. John was out of the hospital within two weeks and convalesced at Baker Street with his doting fiancé. Luc and Elise had been arrested for attempted murder while Yves and Casper were charged with being accessories. The film footage caught by Mummy’s surveillance had been submitted and as a result St. Claire home now stood empty.

The wedding party was phenomenal. Much like John and Sherlock the Watsons and Holmes’ seemed to be made for each other. Both families merged together naturally, the easy-going patience of the Watsons soothing the fractious and unstable nature of the Holmes. Everyone found a new friend and soon there were little pockets of eager conversations going on everywhere while the new families became acquainted. The Watsons thought the Holmes’ were incredibly fascinating and the Holmes’ found the Watsons amazingly addictive.

John and Sherlock sat at their raised table and looked over the happy mass of their relatives. Mirabella was chatting with one of John’s aunts, the one who collected ceramic garden gnomes. They seemed to be hitting it off. Hayden was being courted by one of John’s elderly uncles who apparently found everything about the mysterious person to be entirely irresistible. Emerson was having an earnest discussion with a few of John’s distant cousins and in the distance John could see Elspeth and Byron having some sort of heated discussion with a group of youth about their mobiles, everyone all laughs and funny faces. Harry was euphorically hitting on every woman she could find and the Holmes ladies seemed astounded that someone found them attractive.

The Holmes began to gather in the center of the floor. Long lines formed. Curiously the Watsons were asked to string themselves out and soon everyone was matched with a partner. Sherlock led John to the front of the line next to Mycroft and Greg who were yet to be wed. The detective kissed his new husband tenderly and both men smiled at each other as the music began. The tall dark Holmes’ led the short blond Watsons in their ancient dance. Smiles were exchanged and soft laughter could be heard as the entire hall twisted and twined around each other in a celebration of family. Their new beginning was filled with the promise of John and Sherlock together forever. _It was perfect._

 

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